THE 


AMBASSADORS 
TRUNK 


GEORGE 
BARTON 


THE 
AMBASSADOR'S  TRUNK 


By  GEORGE  BARTON 


THE  AMBASSADOR'S  TRUNK 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated,  $1.50 

THE   MYSTERY   OF  THE 
RED  FLAME 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated,  $1.50 

THE  STRANGE  ADVENTURES 
OF  BROMLEY  BARNES 

Cloth  decorative,  ISmo,  illustrated,  $1.50 

THE  WORLD'S  GREATEST 
MILITARY  SPIES  AND 
SECRET  SERVICE  AGENTS 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated, 


THE    PAGE    COMPANY 
53  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


FLUNG  OUT  HER  ARMS  TO  MAKE  THE  BARRIER  COMPLETE  " 

(See  page  116) 


Ambassador's 
Trunk 


BY 


GEORGE  BARTON 


Author  of 


'The  Mystery  of  the  Red  Flame,"  "The  Strange 

Adventures    of    Bromley    Barnes,"    "The 

World's  Greatest  Military  Spies 

and  Secret  Service  Agents,"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
CHARLES   £.   MEISTER 


THE  PAGE  COMPANY 

BOSTON       ::      MDCCCCXIX 


Copyright,  1919, 
BY  THE  PAGE  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


First  Impression,  March,  1919 
Second  Impression,  June,  1919 


MY  FRIEND 
ALDEN  MARCH 


2134277 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

PAGE 

I 

THE  SEALED  PACKAGE 

I 

II 

THE  ADVENTURE  BEGINS  . 

...        14 

III 

HOPE  VERNON  

71 

IV 

A  STATE  SECRET     .... 

44 

V 

VANCE  DISCOVERS  A  RIVAL    . 

...      58 

VI 

A  WARNING  FROM  BARNES    . 

...     73 

VII 

THE  GOLD-HEADED  PENCIL    . 

...     89 

VIII 

HOPE  BARS  THE  WAY 

.    IO2 

IX 

THE  COUNT  TAKES  A  STROLL 

...     117 

X 

THE  COUNT  CHUCKLES     . 

...     131 

XI 

THE  AMBASSADOR'S  TRUNK    . 

.       .       .143 

XII 

A  FRESH  SURPRISE 

...    156 

XIII 

FORTY-FIVE  JACKSON  STREET  . 

.       .       .    169 

XIV 

ON  A  NEW  TRAIL  .... 

.       .       .     l82 

XV 

HOPE  ASSERTS  HERSELF    . 

.    2OO 

XVI 

THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN 

.    212 

XVII 

GILBERT  TELLS  His  STORY     . 

•       •       .    223 

XVIII 

STRATEGY  AND  THE  WOMAN  . 

...    235 

XIX 

FACE  TO  FACE  

.       .       .247 

XX 

THE  CUSTODIANS  OF  LIBERTY 

.    26O 

XXI 

THE  SEVENTH  OF  MAY     . 

.    272 

XXII 

AT  THE  STATE  DEPARTMENT  . 

.       .       .    284 

XXIII 

NEMESIS       

•    2Q'* 

XXIV 

A  TREATY  OF  PEACE 

.    302 

List  of  Illustrations 


PAGE 

"  FLUNG  OUT  HER  ARMS  TO  MAKE  THE  BARRIER 

COMPLETE."    (See  page  116)      .         Frontispiece 

"  HE  THRUST  THE  PENCIL  INTO  HIS  POCKET  "  .  93 
"  BROMLEY  BARNES  RUSHED  INTO  THE  ROOM  "  .  178 
"  HE  SAW  HIM  STAGGER  "  283 

"  THEY  WALKED  ALONG  SWINGING  HANDS  LIKE 

THE  VERIEST  SCHOOL  CHILDREN  "        .         .     306 


THE  AMBASSADOR'S  TRUNK 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  SEALED  PACKAGE 

IT  was  a  profound  philosopher  who  said,  that  if 
the  nose  of  Cleopatra  had  been  shorter,  the  whole 
face  of  the  earth  would  have  been  changed.  By 
the  application  of  the  same  law  of  chance  it  may 
be  fairly  claimed  that  if  Vance  Prescott  had  not 
turned  back,  on  that  sunny  day  in  May,  the  history 
of  the  modern  world  would  have  been  changed. 

When  he  left  his  bachelor  apartments  in  Wash- 
ington that  morning,  it  was  with  the  fixed  pur- 
pose of  paying  that  long  promised  visit  to  his 
maiden  aunt  in  East  Orange,  New  Jersey.  He  was 
really  headed  in  the  direction  of  the  railroad  sta- 
tion and  was  amusing  himself  with  a  mental  pic- 
ture of  what  was  in  store  for  him  —  Aunt  Lavinia 
Prescott  at  the  door,  with  her  steel-rimmed  spec- 
tacles perched  on  the  bridge  of  her  Napoleonic 
nose,  the  horse-hair  furniture  in  the  parlor,  the  old- 

i 


The  Ambassador's  Trunk 


fashioned  pictures  on  the  wall,  the  big  Bible  on 
the  marble  center  table,  used  chiefly  for  pressing 
autumn  leaves  —  and  finally  the  rehearsal  of  the 
legacy  which  was  to  be  his,  after  his  angular,  but 
perfectly  correct  aunt,  had  shuffled  off  this  mortal 
coil. 

It  was  at  this  concluding  point  in  his  meditations 
that  Vance  Prescott  made  an  alarming  discovery. 
He  had  left  his  apartment  without  his  cigarettes 
and  his  cigarette  case.  Such  things  might  be  ob- 
tained from  any  tobacconist  on  the  way  to  the 
station  —  but  not  the  brand  to  which  this  rigidly 
systematic  young  man  had  accustomed  himself.  It 
was  necessary  for  his  happiness  and  his  peace  of 
mind  that  he  should  return  and  get  these  articles. 
He  halted  abruptly,  wheeled  about  and  started  for 
his  apartments.  He  did  not  realize  it  at  the  mo- 
ment —  how  many  of  us  do  ?  —  but  he  was  really 
throwing  himself  headlong  into  the  outstretched 
hands  of  Adventure.  He  had  turned  an  unex- 
pected corner  of  his  life  and  come  face  to  face  with 
Chance,  the  fickle  goddess  of  fortune. 

Chance,  in  this  case,  was  represented  by  a  little 
red-headed,  stub-nosed  messenger  boy,  who  was 
hammering  away  at  his  door  with  a  vigor  out  of  all 
proportion  to  the  needs  of  the  occasion.  He 
grinned  impishly  as  Captain  Prescott  approached. 


The  Sealed  Package 


"Gee! "  he  ejaculated,  "  I  didn't  think  I'd  ever  git 
an  answer." 

Vance  pleasantly  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
young  disciple  of  Mercury. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  it  proves  what  persistence  will 
do.  I  heard  you  away  down  on  Pennsylvania 
Avenue  and  here  I  am." 

The  youngster  stared  at  the  soldier  with  wide- 
open  eyes.  He  stared  still  more  at  the  size  of  the 
tip,  but  finally  recovered  and  went  away  whistling, 
"  Where  Do  We  Go  From  Here,  Boys?  "  In  the 
meantime  Vance  had  entered  his  apartment  and 
pouncing  on  his  silver  cigarette  case,  put  it  in  his 
pocket.  Then  he  moved  over  near  the  window 
and  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  unopened  telegram. 
He  felt  instinctively  that  it  was  going  to  interfere 
with  that  long-deferred  visit  to  Aunt  Lavinia.  If 
he  didn't  go,  it  might  prompt  her  to  cut  him  out 
of  her  will.  If  he  had  not  turned  back  he  might 
have  been  on  his  way  to  East  Orange  by  this  time, 
and  it  was  all  for  a  package  of  cigarettes.  He  had 
heard  of  men  selling  their  birthrights  for  a  mess 
of  pottage.  Could  it  be  said  that  he  had  discarded 
his  for  a  puff  of  smoke? 

All  this  while  he  continued  to  stare  at  the  un- 
opened telegram.  He  tapped  it  with  his  fingers 
as  though  he  might  compel  the  secret  to  come  to 


The  Ambassador's  Trunk 


the  surface.  There  was  a  mixture  of  eager  ex- 
pectancy and  anxiety  in  his  brown  eyes.  In  spite 
of  years  of  worldly  experience,  a  telegram  to  him 
always  suggested  tragedy,  romance,  or  the  begin- 
ning of  an  adventure.  He  deliberately  postponed 
the  discovery  of  the  mystery  concealed  within  the 
oblong  yellow  envelope.  He  indulged  in  the  lux- 
ury of  teasing  himself.  It  was  like  rolling  a 
choice  morsel  about  his  mouth  before  devouring  it. 
But,  presently,  laughing  at  his  own  mood,  he  ripped 
the  cover  from  the  message.  This  is  what  he 
read: 

Please  come  down  to  Idlewild  for  the  week- 
end. Hope  joins  me  in  this  invitation.  Kindly 
stop  at  the  State  Department  and  ask  if  they  have 
anything  needing  my  attention.  Will  expect  you 
this  evening. 

The  name  appended  was  that  of  Professor  Fran- 
cis Vernon,  Fourth  Assistant  Secretary  of  State 
in  the  Government  of  the  United  States,  and  the 
warm  friend  of  Vance  Prescott.  An  invitation  for 
a  visit  to  the  country  home  of  the  Vernons'  was 
something  to  be  craved,  but  when  to  that  was  added 
the  gracious  word  of  Hope  Vernon,  the  prospect 
became  irresistible. 

Captain  Prescott,  being  a  normal  young  man, 
mentally  accepted  the  invitation  before  he  reached 


The  Sealed  Package 


the  final  word  of  the  message,  and  a  few  minutes 
later  he  had  confirmed  the  acceptance  with  a  return 
telegram.  That  duty  call  on  Aunt  Lavinia  had 
truly  gone  up  in  a  puff  of  smoke.  He  thanked 
his  lucky  stars  that  fate  had  detained  him  in  the 
National  Capital  for  a  longer  time  than  he  had  ex- 
pected. He  was  born  and  educated  in  Washington, 
and  when  the  great  war  began  was  one  of  the  first 
to  go  on  the  other  side.  He  was  wounded  in  ac- 
tion and  invalided  home.  Beyond  a  slight  limp, 
there  was  nothing  now  to  indicate  that  he  was  not 
fit  for  service  again  and  he  had  asked  permission 
to  rejoin  his  regiment.  But  officialdom  was  pro- 
vokingly  slow  in  making  the  decision,  and,  in  the 
meantime,  Captain  Prescott  chafed  and  fumed  at 
the  delay  and  finally  found  himself  assigned  to 
special  duty  in  the  Intelligence  Bureau  of  the  War 
Department. 

But  the  telegram  from  Idlewild  put  a  new  com- 
plexion on  life.  Perhaps  it  was  all  for  the  best 
that  a  prudent  Government  had  not  been  over-hasty 
in  acting  upon  his  application.  He  smiled  as  this 
whimsical  thought  flashed  through  his  mind  and, 
looking  at  the  message  for  the  third  time,  beheld 
beneath  its  words  the  radiant  face  of  Hope  Ver- 
non.  He  remembered  the  first  dance  he  had  with 
her  on  his  return  from  France,  and  that  other  oc- 


6  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

casion  when  he  was  just  on  the  point  of  making  her 
a  former  proposal  of  marriage.  A  strange  shy- 
ness had  caused  him  to  break  down  at  the  last  mo- 
ment. But  now  the  week-end  would  give  him  the 
opportunity  he  had  long  sought.  The  desire  to 
return  to  the  battle  front  was  still  strong  but  if  he 
could  return  with  her  promise  to  be  his  wife  — 
Ah,  that  would  be  an  incentive  for  fighting  and 
living! 

He  was  humming  one  of  the  popular  airs  to  him- 
self as  he  put  on  a  new  tie.  If  he  had  taken  the 
trouble  to  look  in  the  glass,  he  would  have  seen  a 
manly-looking  fellow,  worthy  the  favor  of  any 
girl.  The  mirror  reflected  a  broad-shouldered, 
clean-faced,  strong-limbed,  resolute  young  man. 
Even  when  his  jaws  were  firmest  the  laughter 
lurked  in  his  eyes.  "  I  wonder  if  she'll  have  me," 
he  asked  himself,  not  once,  but  a  dozen  times. 
And  every  time  he  gave  the  answer  by  saying  men- 
tally, "  I'll  tell  her  she's  got  to  marry  me  eventu- 
ally. Why  not  now  ?  " 

Vance,  for  the  second  time,  made  his  way  to  the 
sidewalk.  Gaining  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  he  hur- 
ried toward  the  street  leading  to  the  State  Depart- 
ment. He  had  to  keep  his  wits  about  him  for  the 
avenue  was  crowded  and  as  much  unlike  the  Wash- 
ington he  had  known  as  though  it  were  another 


The  Sealed  Package 


community.  The  familiar  buildings  were  there,  but 
the  skyscraper  had  made  its  appearance,  and  there 
was  an  air  of  bustle  and  business  that  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  leisure  and  refinement  that  had 
heretofore  set  the  capital  city  apart  from  the  other 
municipalities  of  the  United  States.  A  fleet  of 
aeroplanes  hovered  over  the  White  House,  and  a 
procession  of  army  trucks  lumbered  down  one  of 
the  side  thoroughfares.  A  red-faced  orator  stood 
on  the  tail-board  of  a  wagon  near  the  curb  and  in- 
vited subscriptions  to  the  new  Liberty  Loan.  Sol- 
diers and  sailors  mingled  with  the  pedestrians  on 
the  street.  Faces  of  foreigners  were  to  be  seen 
on  every,  side.  A  crowd  of  recruits,  about  to  be 
inducted  into  the  army,  sang,  "  Keep  The  Home 
Fires  Burning  "  with  more  vigor  than  rhythm.  The 
American  flag  floated  from  all  the  public  buildings 
and  most  of  the  stores,  There  were  flashes  of 
color  everywhere.  It  was  Washington  in  war 
times,  and  there  was  something  about  it  that  quick- 
ened the  pulse  of  the  young  officer,  and  caused  his 
blood  to  tingle  with  a  sort  of  joyous  pride.  He 
was  in  the  midst  of  great  things,  and  his  native  city, 
the  capital  of  his  country,  for  the  time  being  at 
least,  loomed  up  as  the  capital  of  Civilization. 

He  made  a  turn  and  found  himself  at  the  steps 
leading  into  the  granite  building  where  the  State 


8  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

Department  was  housed.  There  was  an  unwonted 
activity  in  the  corridors,  and  he  wondered  if  it 
would  be  possible  to  see  the  statesman  who  pre- 
sided over  that  branch  of  the  nation's  business. 
Fortunately,  he  was  on  the  warmest  terms  with 
the  Secretary  of  State.  He  had  known  him  from 
boyhood,  and  the  official  had  taken  the  keenest  in- 
terest in  his  army  career.  By  rare  good  luck  he 
was  disengaged  for  the  moment  and  cheerfully 
consented  to  see  Captain  Prescott.  The  gray- 
haired  gentleman  in  the  frock  coat  grasped  the 
young  man  by  the  two  shoulders  and  congratulated 
him  upon  his  fine  appearance.  Vance  smiled  at 
the  compliments  which  were  showered  on  him. 

"  But,  Mr.  Secretary,"  he  said,  "  I  really  came 
here  to-day  on  official  business." 

A  quizzical  smile  brightened  the  tired  eyes  of  the 
elderly  one.  "  The  soldier  turned  diplomat,"  he 
said  chaffingly.  "  Well,  it  won't  be  the  first  time  an 
ambitious  young  man  has  turned  from  Mars  to 
Machiavelli." 

Vance  straightened  his  shoulders  and  clicked  his 
heels  together  as  a  protest  against  the  suggestion. 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  intention  of  changing 
professions.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  merely  came 
here  as  the  messenger  of  Professor  Vernon.  This 
telegram  tells  the  tale." 


The  Sealed  Package  9 

The  Secretary  of  State  read  the  slip  of  paper  and 
handed  it  back  to  Prescott. 

"  I'd  like  to  be  down  at  Idlewild  with  Vernon," 
he  sighed,  "  but  it's  not  possible  to  leave  here  at 
this  time.  Vernon's  earned  his  vacation  though. 
He's  a  faithful  official.  He's  served  under  eight 
or  ten  administrations.  They  all  look  alike  to  him. 
A  member  of  the  bar,  a  teacher  of  Jurisprudence  at 
Georgetown,  with  fine  tastes  and  an  independent 
fortune,  I  often  wonder  why  he  stays  with  us. 
The  only  things  that  can  hold  him  must  be  love  of 
the  work  and  love  of  country." 

"  You  have  no  word  to  send  him  ? "  queried 
Prescott. 

"  None  at  all  —  tell  him  to  make  the  best  of  his 
vacation,  for  we're  going  to  have  a  hard  winter." 

"  Very  well,  sir.     I'll  tell  him  that." 

"  Now,  what  about  yourself  —  what's  on  your 
mind?" 

"  Nothing,  except  that  the  war  department  won't 
send  me  back  to  France." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh,  on  a  mere  technicality,"  exploded  the  sol- 
dier. "  They  operated  on  me  in  the  hospital  and 
I  lost  three  toes.  What's  three  toes,  more  or  less, 
to  a  husky  chap  like  me?  But  they  say  no,  it  may 
interfere  with  my  marching  or  my  retreating  — 


10  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

wouldn't  it  be  great  to  have  an  entire  army  that 
was  physically  incapable  of  retreating?  —  and  so 
here  I  am  in  Washington  feeling  like  a  slacker." 

"  Having  a  good  time,  eh  ?  " 

"  Well,  hardly  that.  As  you  have  probably 
heard,  I've  been  detailed  to  the  Intelligence  Bureau 
of  the  War  Department.  I  wouldn't  mind  it  if 
there  were  some  excitement  in  the  work,  but  so  far 
all  I've  done  has  been  to  round  up  a  half  dozen 
men  who  were  indulging  in  seditious  talk." 

The  moment  Vance  mentioned  the  Intelligence 
Bureau  the  expression  of  the  Secretary's  face 
changed.  His  brow  wrinkled.  Vance  started  for 
the  door,  but  the  statesman  put  a  detaining  hand 
on  the  young  man's  arm. 

"  Just  wait  a  moment,  Prescott !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  In  spite  of  your  modesty  I  know  you  have  been 
one  of  the  best  operatives  in  the  Intelligence  Bu- 
reau." Wonderingly,  the  young  man  stood  still. 
The  Secretary  of  State  left  him  abruptly  and  going 
to  the  window  looked  out  into  the  busy  street  with 
unseeing  eyes.  He  gnawed  savagely  at  the  end 
of  his  white  mustache  and  drummed  impatiently  on 
the  edge  of  the  sill.  This  performance  lasted  long 
enough  to  be  embarrassing  to  the  visitor.  But  just 
when  Vance  thought  the  man  had  taken  leave  of  his 
senses,  he  turned  with  a  muttered  exclamation. 


The  Sealed  Package  11 

"  I'll  do  it,  by  George,  I'll  do  it !  " 

He  approached  the  young  officer  with  the  com- 
posed look  of  a  man  who  has  reached  his  decision. 

"  Prescott,"  he  said,  measuring  his  words  care- 
fully, "I've  known  you  for  many  years  and  I  have 
formed  a  high  opinion  of  your  integrity,  your  cour- 
age, and  your  discretion." 

Vance  flushed  beneath  his  tanned  skin.  He  felt 
the  curious  sense  of  uneasiness  which  assails  every 
normal  man  who  is  praised  to  his  face. 

'That's  —  that's  awfully  kind,"  he  murmured, 
"  but  I  guess  I'll  be  going  now." 

The  Secretary  clutched  him  by  the  arm. 

"Not  yet,"  he  announced  with  emphasis;  "I 
haven't  been  talking  for  the  sake  of  hearing  my  own 
voice.  The  qualities  I  mention  make  you  the  very 
man  I  need  at  this  moment." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  —  " 

"  No,  of  course  you  don't,"  smilingly  interrupted 
the  diplomat,  "  but  you  will  in  a  moment,  if  you 
give  me  the  chance  to  explain.  I'm  sure  I'm  not 
going  too  far  when  I  say  that  you  are  willing  to 
take  a  risk  for  the  sake  of  serving  your  country." 

"  I'll  go  the  limit,"  replied  Vance,  thinking  of 
the  bullet  wound  that  had  lamed  him. 

The  Secretary  walked  toward  a  small  safe  in  a 
corner  of  the  room,  and  going  down  on  one  knee 


12  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

turned  the  knob  until  the  door  swung  open.  He 
secured  what  he  was  after,  and,  closing  the  safe,  re- 
turned to  his  visitor.  Prescott  noticed  that  he  car- 
ried a  stiff,  manila  envelope  which  contained  the 
imprint  of  the  State  Department.  He  handed  it 
to  the  young  man. 

"  This  sealed  package,"  he  said,  "  contains  a 
green  wallet  which  happens  to  be  the  personal  prop- 
erty of  Professor  Vernon.  That  wallet  contains 
a  paper  which  is  of  the  utmost  value  to  the  United 
States.  I  want  you  to  undertake  to  deliver  it  to 
him.  Will  you  do  so  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  was  the  reply. 

"  There  are  circumstances  surrounding  this  busi- 
ness which  I  do  not  think  it  necessary  or  even  de- 
sirable to  explain  at  this  time,  but  it's  right  in  line 
with  your  work.  The  facts  are  known  to  only  a 
few  persons.  Vernon  is  one  of  them.  If  he  sees 
fit  to  tell  them  to  you  I  offer  no  objection.  But 
tell  him  that  it  was  important  to  get  the  paper  out 
of  this  office  and  tell  him  to  guard  it  with  his 
life." 

The  solemnity  with  which  these  words  were 
spoken  communicated  itself  to  the  young  army  of- 
ficer. He  suddenly  felt  an  immense  sense  of  re- 
sponsibility. The  Secretary  of  State  looked  him 
over  with  an  appraising  eye. 


\ 

The  Sealed  Package  13 


"  You  impress  me  as  a  young  man  who  can  take 
care  of  himself  in  an  emergency." 

"  I  am  sure  I  can,"  was  the  unboasting  reply. 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said  except 
that  you  are  performing  a  service  for  your  country 
which  may  easily  prove  as  important  as  though  you 
were  leading  your  company  to  victory  on  the  battle- 
field." 

The  two  men  clasped  hands  in  a  red-blooded  grip 
and  Vance  Prescott  left  the  room  and  hurried  out 
of  the  building.  As  he  reached  the  foot  of  the 
steps  the  sounds  of  martial  music  caught  his  ears. 
His  eyes  followed  the  scurrying  crowds  and  he  saw 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  and  the  tri-colors  floating  in 
the  breeze.  The  members  of  the  French  Commis- 
sion were  being  escorted  to  the  White  House. 

Vance  felt  the  pressure  of  the  bulky  package 
which  he  had  thrust  inside  his  coat  and  a  thrill  of 
patriotism  ran  through  his  body.  His  chance  had 
come.  He  had  responded  to  the  beckoning  ringer 
of  opportunity. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   ADVENTURE   BEGINS 

VANCE  decided  to  walk  to  the  station.  He  had 
the  time,  and  the  day  was  too  glorious  to  miss  the 
chance  of  mingling  with  the  people.  He  lit  one 
of  his  cigarettes  and  as  the  smoke  curled  in  ringlets 
about  him  he  thought  of  his  aunt  in  East  Orange, 
and  that  once  more  deferred  visit.  She  would  be 
properly  angry  and,  in  all  probability,  would  dis- 
own him.  His  fortune  gone  —  and  all  for  a  taste 
of  the  weed!  He  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders 
and  disclaimed  all  personal  responsibility  for  his 
fate.  He  had  shaken  the  dice-box  of  destiny  and 
the  throw  had  directed  him  to  Idlewild  and  Hope 
Vernon. 

Opposite  the  National  Theater  the  young  man 
was  caught  in  a  crowd,  and,  for  the  moment,  re- 
gretted that  he  had  not  taken  a  conveyance.  But 
the  traffic  officer  shouted  directions  to  the  auto- 
mobiles that  halted  the  people,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  eddying  crowd  had  resumed  its  way. 
Once  again,  just  before  reaching  the  Capitol,  he 

14 


The  Adventure  Begins  15 

was  imprisoned  in  the  whirl,  and  found  himself 
being  pushed  to  and  fro.  He  took  it  good  naturedly 
until  he  discovered  some  one  clutching  at  his  coat. 
With  a  grunt  of  annoyance  he  thrust  the  arm  aside. 
It  was  impossible  to  turn  around,  but  he  managed 
to  look  sideways,  and  he  got  the  merest  glimpse  of 
a  swarthy,  ugly  face.  Vance  Prescott  was  not  an 
imaginative  man,  but  there  was  something  about 
that  strange  countenance  that  caused  a  shiver  of 
distrust  and  apprehension  to  pass  up  and  down  his 
spinal  column.  The  man  had  the  face  of  a  mur- 
derer. He  had  dark  smoldering  eyes,  and  a 
scowling  countenance.  They  had  only  time  to  ex- 
change glances  in  that  fleeting  moment,  but  there 
was  a  vindictiveness  about  the  dark-faced  one  that 
was  ugly  to  contemplate. 

Presently  Vance  reached  the  railroad  station,  and 
was  fortunate  enough  to  get  a  seat  in  a  car.  It 
was  only  after  the  train  had  started  on  its  journey, 
and  he  was  in  the  suburbs  of  Washington,  that  he 
made  a  discovery.  The  buttons  of  his  coat  had 
been  opened!  He  felt  for  the  precious  packet  and 
was  relieved  to  find  it  still  in  place.  But  the 
thought  that  he  had  come  near  being  the  victim  of 
a  pickpocket  was  disquieting.  He  thought  of  his 
walk  from  the  State  Department  to  the  railroad  sta- 
tion and  with  it  came  the  recollection  of  the  mo- 


16  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

ment  he  had  been  jostled  by  the  crowd  on  the  side- 
walk. He  recalled  the  man  with  the  murderous 
face  and  decided  instantly  that  the  man  had  designs 
on  the  package.  Also,  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  fellow  was  no  ordinary  petty  thief.  He 
had  a  specific  object  in  view  —  and  had  failed. 

But  Vance  Prescott  was  a  man  and  a  lover,  and 
it  was  not  in  the  nature  of  things  that  he  should 
continue  to  dwell  upon  such  an  incident.  He  was 
filled  with  pleasant  anticipations  of  his  approaching 
visit  to  Idlewild.  He  liked  the  place,  he  liked  the 
host,  and,  above  all,  he  liked  Hope  Vernon.  The 
thought  of  spending  a  few  days  in  her  company  was 
very  agreeable  to  him.  By  and  by  he  had  forgotten 
about  the  sealed  package  and  was  thinking  only  of 
the  witchery  in  the  eyes  of  the  only  girl  in  the  world 
—  for  him.  The  locomotive  whistle  blew,  the  bell 
rang,  and  a  cloud  of  smoke  drifted  between  the  car 
window  and  the  passing  landscape.  But  it  did  not 
annoy  Vance  Prescott,  for  in  the  curling  mass  of 
steam  and  smoke  he  could  picture  the  countenance 
of  his  beloved.  So  it  is  to  be  young  —  and  in  love. 

Before  he  realized  it,  the  train  had  pulled  up  at 
the  station  in  the  neighborhood  of  Idlewild.  He 
had  left  instructions  in  the  city  to  have  his  things 
follow  him,  so  that  he  was  not  impeded  with  even 
so  much  as  a  traveling  bag.  He  leaped  to  the  plat- 


The  Adventure  Begins  17 

form  lightly  and  looked  about  him  for  a  convey- 
ance. None  was  in  sight.  He  waited  for  the  train 
to  pull  out  and  then,  making  for  the  well-kept  road, 
started  in  the  direction  of  the  Vernon  home.  He 
knew  it  was  not  much  more  than  a  mile  and  that 
was  as  nothing  to  a  robust  young  man  who  had 
always  enjoyed  his  army  hikes. 

The  countryside  was  fragrant  with  the  odor  of 
approaching  spring.  Vance  threw  out  his  shoul- 
ders, inhaled  deeply  and,  getting  his  stride,  walked 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is  enjoying  life  to  the 
fullest.  His  disposition  was  cheery  and  his  outlook 
on  the  world  optimistic.  The  time  passed  rapidly 
and  soon  he  could  see  the  gabled  barn  which  marked 
one  end  of  the  Vernon  estate.  He  had  the  road  to 
himself  for  the  greater  part  of  the  way,  but,  at  an 
unexpected  turn  in  the  highway,  he  was  confronted 
by  a  beggar.  The  man  was  dirty  and  disheveled 
and  held  his  head  down  while  he  whined  for  some-- 
thing to  keep  him  from  starving.  The  young  of- 
ficer was  not  at  all  impressed,  but  as  he  paused  for 
a  moment,  undecided,  a  strange  thing  happened. 

The  supposed  beggar  suddenly  straightened  up 
and  drawing  back  shot  a  yellow  fist  in  the  direction 
of  Prescott.  It  caught  him  on  the  side  of  the  head 
and  he  went  reeling  against  a  wormwood  fence. 
The  attack  had  come  so  quickly  and  with  such  brief 


18  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

warning  that  Vance  was  dazed.  But  he  did  not 
take  many  seconds  to  recover. 

"  You  dirty  scoundrel !  "  he  cried ;  "  I'll  give  you 
all  the  fight  you  want !  " 

Even  while  he  spoke  he  had  grabbed  his  assailant 
by  the  throat  and  was  squeezing  his  windpipe.  By 
a  great  effort  the  fellow  managed  to  release  the  hold 
of  the  soldier,  and  then  the  two  were  engaged  in  a 
wrestling  match.  They  swayed  to  and  fro  for  a 
minute  or  two  and  then  fell  in  the  dust  of  the  road 
and  rolled  over  one  another.  First  one  and  then 
the  other  had  the  advantage.  Presently  they  were 
facing  one  another  on  their  knees  and  then  by  an 
unexpected  twist  they  managed  to  regain  their  feet. 
Both  were  covered  with  dirt,  but  through  the  grime 
Vance  managed  to  distinguish  the  features  of  his 
assailant  —  and  they  were  the  features  of  a  mur- 
derer. 

The  discovery  gave  him  a  shock.  Even  in  those 
fleeting  seconds  he  realized  that  this  was  part  of  a 
studied  plot.  The  bogus  beggar  was  concealed  in 
the  bend  of  the  road  in  the  belief  that  he  could  way- 
lay and  rob  him.  It  was  not  the  man  who  had  jos- 
tled him  in  the  streets  of  Washington  but  their 
faces  were  ugly  enough  and  malignant  enough  to 
make  them  twin  brothers  in  crime.  While  these 
thoughts  were  rushing  through  his  mind,  Vance 


The  Adventure  Begins  19 

was  preparing  to  defend  himself.  He  shot  out  his 
right  hand  and  caught  the  evil  one  on  the  nose  with 
such  force  as  to  bring  the  blood.  He  was  about  to 
follow  this  up  with  another  punch  when  the  Mexi- 
can —  for  he  was  undoubtedly  a  Mexican  —  deftly 
threw  out  his  left  leg  and  sent  Prescott  sprawling 
on  his  back.  A  sense  of  helplessness  overcame 
him.  He  could  have  cried  with  impotent  rage,  and, 
instinctively,  his  hand  spread  over  that  part  of  his 
coat  that  concealed  the  package  he  was  to  deliver 
to  Professor  Vernon.  But  at  that  moment  he 
heard  the  shout  of  a  newcomer,  and,  to  his  surprise 
and  amazement,  the  Mexican  took  to  his  heels  and 
fled.  Partly  dazed,  Vance  lay  still  for  a  moment 
and  then  he  was  roused  by  a  familiar  voice  saying: 

"  I  hope  you're  not  injured,  sir." 

He  looked  up  and  beheld  the  red  face  of  Barker, 
the  trusted  man-servant  of  the  Vernons. 

"  No,  Barker,"  he  said,  as  he  arose  sheepishly  and 
brushed  the  dirt  from  his  clothing,  "  but  I  can't  say 
that  I  feel  particularly  dignified." 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry,  sir,"  apologized  the  faithful 
one,  "  but  I'm  afraid  that  I've  been  at  fault." 

"  Nonsense,"  laughed  Vance,  rapidly  coming  to 
himself;  "  if  any  one's  to  blame  it's  myself  for  per- 
mitting that  rascal  to  escape." 

Barker,  with  a  woebegone  look  on  his  honest  face, 


20  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

refused  to  take  a  cheerful  view  of  the  situation. 

"  My  instructions,  sir,  were  to  meet  you  at  the 
station,  but  the  only  car  we  have  happened  to  be 
out,  and  so  I  started  to  walk  in  the  hope  that  it 
might  have  gone  for  you,  and  — " 

"  And,"  interrupted  Vance  gayly,  "  you  found  me 
on  my  back  gazing  at  the  blue  sky  of  Virginia." 

Barker  shook  his  head  disconsolately. 

"  The  walk  from  the  station  to  the  house  is  not 
what  it  used  to  be,  sir.  We've  had  thieves  in  the 
neighborhood." 

"  That's  very  evident,"  retorted  Vance  dryly. 
"  Well,  Barker,  we'll  forget  about  the  incident,  and, 
in  the  meanwhile,  you  may  hold  yourself  guiltless 
of  any  fault  in  the  matter." 

As  they  talked  they  walked  in  the  direction  of  the 
Vernon  place.  Presently  they  reached  the  entrance 
to  Idlewild  and  the  sight  of  the  fine  old  estate 
quickly  restored  the  young  officer  to  his  usual  lively 
spirits.  The  graveled  path  leading  to  the  colonial 
home  was  flanked  on  either  side  by  splendid  trees 
that  had  been  planted  by  generations  of  the  Vernon 
family.  Vance  Prescott,  who  was  a  lover  of  trees, 
reveled  in  the  presence  of  these  great  works  of  na- 
ture. There  was  a  freshness  about  them,  and  there 
was  a  restlessness  beneath  their  sheltering  branches 
that  contrasted  with  the  arid,  artificial  and  feverish 


The  Adventure  Begins  21 

life  of  the  city.  As  they  reached  the  head  of  the 
walk  an  elderly  man  came  down  from  the  veranda 
and  approached  the  visitor  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  Welcome  to  Idlewild,  my  boy!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Thank  you,"  was  the  hearty  response  as  he  re- 
turned the  hand-clasp,  "  and  rest  assured  of  my 
appreciation  of  your  telegram." 

Professor  Vernon  smiled  at  the  beaming  counte- 
nance of  his  young  friend. 

"Didn't  I  hear  a  shout  a  minute  ago?"  he  in- 
quired. "  Have  you  been  improving  your  vocal 
chords  on  the  way  to  the  house  ?  " 

"No,  sir,"  eagerly  interjected  the  faithful  Barker; 
"  it  was  this  way,  sir.  I  couldn't  get  the  car  and 
I—" 

"  Professor,"  interrupted  Vance,  "  it's  simply 
this.  I  was  unfortunate  enough  to  fall  among 
thieves,  and  Barker,  in  the  role  of  the  Good  Samari- 
tan, came  to  my  rescue." 

The  Fourth  Assistant  Secretary  of  State  looked 
very  grave. 

"  But  why  should  any  one  want  to  rob  you  —  in 
broad  daylight  ?  " 

"  You  forget,"  laughed  the  young  man,  "  that 
the  shades  of  night  are  falling  and  that  I  bear  on 
my  person  the  appearance  of  prosperity." 

"  I'm  truly  sorry,"  commented  the  host,  "  but  Gil- 


22  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

bert  and  Count  Castro,  who  is  staying  with  us,  have 
evidently  gone  out  in  the  machine.  Otherwise,  this 
unfortunate  incident  might  have  been  avoided. 
But  tell  me  all  about  it." 

Vance  related  the  story  concisely  enough  and  at 
its  conclusion  the  face  of  Francis  Vernon  looked 
very  grave  indeed.  He  turned  to  the  trusted  serv- 
ant. 

"  That's  all  at  present,  Barker,  but  you  may  send 
word  to  Miss  Hope  that  Captain  Prescott  has  ar- 
rived." 

He  put  his  arm  through  that  of  the  young  officer 
and  led  him  into  a  small  study  on  the  far  side  of 
the  house.  They  seated  themselves  in  easy  chairs 
and  the  host  pushed  a  box  of  cigars  in  the  direction 
of  his  visitor. 

"  Vance,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  "  I  don't  like  this 
business,  but  before  we  go  any  further  I'd  like  to 
know  if  you  called  at  the  State  Department  before 
you  came  here." 

"  I  did,  and  was  received  like  a  long-lost  son. 
My  visit  must  have  been  opportune,  for  the  Secre- 
tary gave  me  a  package  which  I  was  charged  to 
deliver  into  your  hands." 

"  A  package !  "  ejaculated  Vernon,  stroking  his 
closely  cropped  white  beard  with  a  hand  that  trem- 
bled slightly. 


The  Adventure  Begins  23 

"  Precisely,"  was  the  response,  and,  as  he  spoke, 
the  young  man  unbuttoned  his  coat  and,  reaching 
inside,  drew  forth  the  oblong  manila  envelope  with 
the  Seal  of  the  State  Department  and  laid  it  on  the 
table. 

"  This  is  to  certify,"  he  droned  laughingly,  "  that 
I,  Vance  Prescott,  have  duly  delivered  into  the  pos- 
session of  Francis  Vernon,  one  package  intrusted  to 
my  care  by  the  Secretary  of  State  of  the  United 
States  Government." 

But  his  host  was  not  laughing.  He  reached  for 
the  envelope  with  feverish  haste.  He  quickly  tore 
the  cover  and  drew  forth  a  long  green  wallet,  suffi- 
ciently large  to  hold  official  papers.  He  opened 
this  and  pulled  forth  a  legal  paper  containing  an 
impressive  looking  seal.  His  hand  trembled  as  he 
replaced  it  and  his  brow  wrinkled  with  obvious 
anxiety. 

"  That  contract  here !  "  he  said  to  himself  in  a 
hushed  whisper. 

His  mood  communicated  itself  to  the  young  man. 
Vance  glanced  across  the  table  with  a  troubled  smile. 

"  I  hope  everything  is  all  right  —  nothing  miss- 
ing?" 

Francis  Vernon  roused  himself  with  an  effort. 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied  with  a  tinge  of  heartiness 
in  his  voice,  "  and  I  am  greatly  indebted  to  you  for 


24  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

bringing  it  to  me  safely.  But,  tell  me,  did  the 
Secretary  give  you  any  verbal  message?  " 

"  Yes,  he  said  it  was  important  to  get  the  paper 
out  of  the  office  and  to  tell  you  to  guard  it  with  your 
life." 

Professor  Vernon  nodded. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said,  "  I  understand  only  too 
well." 

He  looked  up  and  noticed  the  door  was  open. 
Arising,  he  closed  it  and  turned  the  key. 

"  We  can't  be  too  careful,"  he  apologized.  "  Did 
the  Secretary  tell  you  the  contents  of  the  wallet?  " 

"  No,  but  he  said  that  if  you  cared  to  tell  me  he 
had  no  objection." 

The  venerable  one  drummed  nervously  on  the 
top  of  the  polished  table. 

"  You're  entitled  to  know  after  the  risk  you've 
run." 

"Risk?" 

"  Yes,  my  boy,  risk.  There  are  men  who  would 
not  hesitate  to  commit  murder  to  get  possession  of 
that  paper.  That's  the  meaning  of  those  two  sig- 
nificant incidents  that  happened  to  you  to-day. 
The  fellow  who  jostled  you  in  Washington  hoped 
to  steal  the  package  and  the  man  who  attacked  you 
on  the  highway  had  the  same  object  in  view.  But 
they  both  failed,  thanks  to  your  courage  — " 


The  Adventure  Begins  25 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Vance,  "  and  thanks  to  the 
timely  appearance  of  Barker." 

Vernon  smiled  indulgently. 

"  Barker  is  one  of  the  most  faithful  men  I've  ever 
met.  He's  more  like  a  loyal  friend  than  a  servant. 
He  has  the  run  of  the  house.  Gilbert  thinks  he 
presumes  on  his  position,  but  that's  a  minor  matter 
in  my  opinion." 

The  Professor  placed  the  green  wallet  in  the 
paper  cover  and  fastened  it  with  a  rubber  band. 

"  It's  wonderful,"  he  mused,  "  to  think  that  you 
were  able  to  bring  it  here.  It  means  so  much  to  all 
of  us.  The  loss  of  that  paper  would  be  the  dead- 
liest blow  the  United  States  could  possibly  receive 
at  this  time." 

Vance  Prescott  regarded  his  friend  in  silence  for 
some  moments. 

"  Mr.  Vernon,"  he  said  presently,  "  I  have  no  de- 
sire to  pry  into  matters  which  do  not  concern 
me—" 

"  This  paper  concerns  every  American,"  inter- 
rupted the  Professor. 

"  Well,  I  mean  to  say  that  I  do  not  want  to  ask 
for  your  confidence  if  it  is  not  permissible,  but  I 
can't  understand  why  such  a  valuable  paper  should 
be  allowed  to  leave  the  State  Department.  Surely 
it  would  be  safer  there  than  in  a  country  house." 


26  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

Francis  Vernon  stroked  his  beard  reflectively. 
When  he  looked  up  it  was  to  address  the  young  man 
in  measured  tones. 

"  That's  a  very  fair  question,  and  I  can  easily 
understand  your  perplexity.  The  Secretary  knows 
why  he  did  this,  and  I  know  it  may  be  very  hard 
for  you  to  get  our  point  of  view.  On  the  surface, 
my  boy,  everything  appears  to  be  going  smoothly, 
but  only  those  who  are  entrusted  with  the  secrets 
of  this  war  understand  the  odds  against  which  we 
have  to  work  at  times.  The  great  mass  of  the  peo- 
ple are  with  us,  heart  and  soul,  in  this  righteous 
war.  But  there  are  some  who  are  disloyal  at  heart 
and  they  give  us  much  concern." 

"You  mean  — "  began  Vance. 

"  I  mean,"  was  the  quick  response,  "  that  Wash- 
ington is  filled  with  spies,  with  men  who  will  resort 
to  anything  that  will  serve  their  selfish  ends.  Even 
those  who  work  with  us  have  to  be  watched  con- 
stantly. We  have  reason  for  feeling  that  the  State 
Department,  with  its  highly  confidential  diplomatic 
facilities,  has  not  been  free  from  invasion.  Papers 
have  been  abstracted  and  copied.  I  tell  you  this 
because  I  believe  in  your  patriotism  and  loyalty  as  I 
believe  in  my  own." 

"But  this  particular  paper?"  questioned  Vance. 
"  Was  it  known  generally  ?  " 


The  Adventure  Begins  27 

"  No,"  was  the  grave  reply,  "if  it  had  been,  all 
of  our  plans  would  have  gone  for  naught.  But, 
necessarily,  it  is  known  to  a  few  persons  and  the 
slightest  indiscretion  on  their  part  might  prove 
fatal.  Above  all,  the  paper  itself  must  not  get  out 
of  our  possession.  Hence  the  action  of  the  Secre- 
tary in  sending  it  to  me." 

"  But,"  protested  Prescott,  "  it  was  locked  in  a 
safe  in  Washington." 

Vernon  smiled  sadly. 

"  Safes  have  been  cracked  before  and  locks 
picked.  The  safe  in  the  office  of  the  Secretary 
would  be  the  first  place  to  look  for  the  document. 
It  would  be  the  natural  hiding  place.  But  here,  in 
the  country,  no  one  would  be  supposed  to  dream  of 
such  a  thing.  It  is  the  most  unlikely  spot  on  earth 
to  deposit  such  a  valuable  document.  The  motive 
of  the  Secretary  in  sending  it  to  me  is  perfectly 
understandable.  I  hope  I've  answered  your  ques- 
tion. Have  I  made  the  situation  clear  ?  " 

Vance  nodded. 

"  Yes,  so  far  as  the  sending  of  the  wallet  to  Idle- 
wild  is  concerned.  It  seems  to  be  the  best  place 
for  it.  You  think  so  yourself.  Then  why 
worry?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  if  it  hadn't  been  for  your  two  Mexi- 
cans. That  introduces  a  new  and  unexpected  ele- 


28  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

ment  of  danger.  It  proves  my  contention  that  ev- 
erything we  do  in  Washington  is  watched.  The 
fact  that  the  wallet  was  committed  to  your  keeping 
must  have  been  made  known  at  once." 

"  Well,"  declared  Vance,  in  an  attempt  to  take  a 
bright  view  of  the  situation,  "  it's  still  in  your  pos- 
session. We've  got  the  best  of  these  rascals  twice 
and  we  can  do  it  a  third  time." 

Professor  Vernon  arose  and  took  two  or  three 
turns  of  the  room. 

"  I'll  never  rest  while  it's  under  my  roof,"  he  de- 
clared. 

"  What  will  you  do  with  it?  " 

"  I  can't  do  anything  with  it  now,  but  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning  I'll  get  you  to  go  with  me  and 
we'll  deposit  it  in  my  safe  deposit  box  in  the  village 
bank.  It's  only  two  or  three  miles  from  here. 
We'll  slip  away  unobserved,  and  the  paper  can  stay 
there  until  the  day  appointed  for  its  production." 

"  That  sounds  good,  Professor,"  admitted  Pres- 
cott,  "  but,  so  far,  you  haven't  told  me  what  it's  all 
about." 

"Bless  my  soul!"  ejaculated  the  elderly  one. 
"  I've  been  so  much  concerned  with  my  part  of  the 
trouble  that  I'd  almost  forgotten  you  had  rights. 
Sit  down  there.  Light  another  cigar.  You  are 
entitled  to  the  information." 


The  Adventure  Begins  29 

The  Professor  shoved  the  match  case  toward  his 
guest.  He  rilled  a  pipe  with  fine  cut  tobacco  for 
himself,  and,  lighting  it,  gave  two  or  three  luxuri- 
ous puffs. 

"It's  a  long  story,"  he  began,  "but  I'll  try  to 
shorten  it.  When  the  war  began  it  was  — ' 

The  sound  of  some  one  trying  the  handle  of  the 
door  caused  him  to  halt  in  the  beginning  of  his 
narrative. 

"  Did  you  hear  any  one  ?  "  he  asked  Vance,  as  he 
laid  his  pipe  on  the  ash-tray. 

Before  the  young  man  could  answer  there  came 
three  sharp  raps  on  the  door  and  the  voice  of  some 
one  calling  for  Vance  Prescott. 

Francis  Vernon  made  a  wry  face. 

"  Don't  open  the  door  yet,"  he  warned ;  "  I've  got 
to  put  the  wallet  away." 

He  looked  about  him  in  perplexity  for  some  mo- 
ments and  presently  his  gaze  lighted  on  a  walnut 
cabinet  standing  in  a  corner  of  the  study.  His 
face  brightened  with  satisfaction. 

"  The  very  place,"  he  declared  in  response  to 
Prescott's  questioning  glance.  "  I'll  leave  it  there 
for  the  night  and  in  the  morning  we'll  take  it  over 
to  the  bank." 

He  produced  a  little  key  which  opened  the  lower 
part  of  the  cabinet.  He  placed  the  manila  envelope 


30  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

in  one  of  the  compartments,  closed  and  locked  the 
door  and  replaced  the  key  in  the  pocket  of  his  smok- 
ing jacket. 

"  That,"  he  chuckled,  "  is  where  I  keep  my  choice 
liquors  and  cigars.  No  one  in  the  house  would  dare 
go  near  it.  I  think  it  was  a  deucedly  clever  idea 
to  think  of  putting  it  there." 

He  smiled  at  the  thought  of  his  own  shrewdness. 
Vance  Prescott,  on  his  part,  felt  a  singular  sense 
of  relief  as  he  heard  the  key  turn  in  the  cabinet. 

"  Now,"  exclaimed  the  Professor,  "  you  may 
open  the  door  for  the  intruder ! " 


CHAPTER  III 

HOPE   VERNON 

WHEN  the  door  of  the  study  opened  the  two  men 
beheld  Hope  Vernon  standing  outside,  her  blue  eyes 
flashing  fire,  and  the  expression  on  her  face  a  strug- 
gle between  curiosity  and  annoyance.  Vance  hur- 
ried to  her  with  outstretched  hands : 

"  Hope,"  he  cried  eagerly,  "  I've  just  been  dying 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  your  face." 

She  took  his  hand,  but  the  little  nose  was  uptilted 
the  least  bit  as  she  retorted  in  a  spirited  manner : 

"  Indeed,  and  I  suppose  that  was  the  reason  you 
shut  yourself  up  in  that  stuffy,  smelly  room,  instead 
of  coming  to  look  for  me  in  the  house." 

"  But,  Miss  Hope,  I  had  some  matters  to  talk 
over  with  your  father,  and  I  could  scarcely  wait 
until  we  finished." 

"  Yes,"  chimed  in  the  Professor,  with  a  smile  on 
his  usually  grave  face,  "  Captain  Prescott  was  good 
enough  to  listen  to  some  of  my  prosy  stories,  for 
which  you  should  be  grateful." 

"Oh!"  cried  the  girl,  with  the  air  of  a  spoiled 


32  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

daughter,  "  so  that  was  why  you  kept  me  waiting 
at  the  door.  Telling  stories  to  each  other  while  I 
cooled  my  heels  outside." 

"  They  are  very  pretty  heels,"  murmured  the 
young  man,  with  an  appealing  glance  in  the  direc- 
tion of  his  divinity. 

Before  she  had  time  to  make  a  retort,  Francis 
Vernon  turned  to  the  young  man  and  said  signifi- 
cantly : 

"  After  you  have  made  your  peace  with  my 
daughter,  come  back  and  I'll  finish  the  story." 

Vance  flashed  him  an  understanding  glance. 

"  Very  well.  I'm  intensely  interested,  and  I  can 
assure  you  I  won't  go  to  bed  until  I  have  heard 
the  end  of  the  narrative." 

He  returned  to  the  study,  while  Vance  and  Hope 
made  their  way  to  the  spacious  veranda.  A  swing, 
cozily  cushioned  and  suspended  by  chains,  invited 
them  to  be  seated.  There,  while  they  swayed  to 
and  fro,  he  told  her  the  old  story,  and  she  parried 
his  downright  proposal  of  marriage  with  a  clever- 
ness that  seems  to  be  intuitive  with  members  of 
the  gentler  sex  when  it  comes  to  matters  of  the 
heart.  The  more  she  evaded  his  question  the  more 
persistent  he  became.  She  smiled  and  pouted  and 
finally  turned  on  him  with 'one  of  those  unexpected 
flashes  of  the  Vernon  temper. 


Hope  Vernon  33 

"  See  here,  Vance  Prescott,  you  were  invited 
down  here  to  add  to  the  pleasure  of  this  week-end 
gathering.  If  you're  going  to  make  a  nuisance  of 
yourself  I'll  regret  sending  the  invitation." 

Having  delivered  herself  of  the  ultimatum  she 
turned  her  head  resolutely  the  other  way  and  sud- 
denly became  engrossed  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
avenue  of  trees  with  their  colorful  leaves,  just  be- 
ginning to  drip  with  the  dew. 

The  ends  of  her  auburn  hair  provokingly  ca- 
ressed the  end  of  his  nose  —  and  being  a  good- 
natured  nose  it  did  not  resent  the  familiarity  in  the 
least.  Vance  smiled  at  the  averted  face  and  was 
pleased  to  find  that  the  countenance  which  he 
thought  he  knew  so  well,  presented  alluring  details 
which  he  had  not  hitherto  discerned.  She  had  a 
swan-like  neck,  for  instance,  and  it  was  perched  on 
the  most  perfect  shoulders  he  had  ever  seen.  Her 
complexion  was  not  white  —  it  was  rather  fair 
with  just  enough  color  to  enhance  the  purity  of  the 
skin.  It  was  not  precisely  a  beautiful  face ;  it  might 
be  better  described  as  a  bright  and  interesting  face. 
Even  in  his  infatuation  he  made  this  concession  to 
exact  truth.  But  when  she  smiled  —  she  was  not 
smiling  now  —  you  were  sure  to  discover  two  dim- 
ples in  her  cheek.  It  was  good  to  provoke  her  to 
mirth,  for  then  the  smile  began  in  her  blue  eyes  and 


34  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

i 

gradually  extended  to  the  adorable  mouth,  which 

was  neither  too  small  nor  too  large. 

Vance  touched  a  gold-headed  pencil  which  she 
had  stuck  in  the  back  of  her  hair.  She  shook  her 
head  as  a  protest  against  this  liberty  and  he  could 
see  then  that  the  blue  eyes  which  were  usually  as 
mild  as  the  surface  of  a  lake  had  now  become  as 
turbulent  as  the  sea.  He  left  the  swing  and  began 
to  pace  along  the  veranda.  She  watched  him  out 
of  the  tail  end  of  the  angry  eyes  and  she  noticed 
what  a  resolute  young  fellow  he  was,  the  way  he 
held  back  his  broad  shoulders,  the  laughter  that 
lurked  in  his  eyes,  and  finally  and  most  important  of 
all,  the  slight  limp  in  his  walk.  That  was  a  re- 
minder of  what  he  had  done  for  his  country  —  and 
therefore  of  what  he  had  done  for  her.  The  fire 
died  from  her  eyes  and  a  look  of  love  and  compas- 
sion took  its  place.  She  ran  after  him,  held  his 
arms  behind  his  back  and  cried : 

"  If  you'll  promise  never,  never  to  propose  to  me 
again,  I'll  forgive  you." 

He  laughed  his  boyish  laugh. 

"  I'll  promise  not  to  propose  again  to-night. 
That's  as  far  ahead  as  I'm  willing  to  commit  my- 
self." 

It  was  only  natural,  after  that,  to  take  a  stroll 
through  the  grounds.  Hope  cast  seemingly  care- 


Hope  Vernon  35 

less  glances  at  Vance,  and  each  time  she  was  more 
convinced  than  ever  that  he  was  the  type  of  clean- 
cut  American  that  had  always  been  her  ideal.  Oc- 
casionally he  became  serious,  and  then  she  noticed 
what  she  had  previously  discerned,  that  even  when 
his  jaws  were  firmest  the  laughter  lurked  in  the 
depths  of  his  brown  eyes.  A  man  to  be  reckoned 
with,  this,  who  could  smile  while  he  went  about  his 
work  with  relentless  fidelity. 

Vance,  on  his  part,  could  scarcely  resist  the  desire 
to  fold  her  in  his  arms,  she  was  so  fair,  so  dainty 
and  so  roguish.  He  compelled  her  to  smile  in  order 
to  watch  the  dimples  form  in  her  cheek,  and  he 
teased  her  for  the  sake  of  the  spark  of  fire  that  was 
sure  to  light  up  the  blue  eyes.  Once  the  gold- 
headed  pencil  slipped  from  her  hair,  and  he  rescued 
it  with  the  remark  that  it  was  not  worthy  of  such 
an  adorable  resting  place.  The  color  came  to  her 
cheeks,  while  she  rebuked  him  for  talking  nonsense. 
The  grounds  were  extensive  and  attractive,  and  it 
was  necessary,  of  course,  that  they  should  visit  every 
part  of  the  place.  A  little  summer  house  stood  in 
a  far-away  corner,  and  it  was  inevitable  that  they 
should  drift  there. 

"  What  are  your  plans?  "  she  asked  with  an  air  of 
pretended  indifference,  as  they  seated  themselves 
in  the  wicker  chairs. 


36  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  My  plans,"  he  replied  with  a  grimace,  "  are  en- 
tirely in  the  hands  of  the  tyrants  of  the  war  depart- 
ment. I  think  I  have  the  right  to  return  to  France, 
but  they  think  my  place  is  in  Washington.  That 
has  its  advantages  —  one  of  them  being  that  at  this 
particular  moment  I  have  the  privilege  of  being  by 
your  side." 

"  Vance,"  she  said  severely,  "  please  be  sensi- 
ble." 

"  How  can  I  be  sensible,"  he  retorted,  "  when  the 
sight  of  you  is  turning  my  poor  brain  topsy- 
turvy — " 

"  If  you  don't  stop  such  foolish  talk,"  she  inter- 
rupted, with  an  air  of  great  dignity,  "  I'll  get  up 
and  leave  you  here." 

He  lifted  his  hands  in  mock  terror. 

"  All  right,"  he  pleaded,  "  I'll  be  good,  only  please 
don't  leave  me." 

"  I'll  admit  that  it  is  hard  to  be  here  while  the 
fighting  is  going  on  in  France,  but  then  you're  not 
the  one  to  judge  what  is  best." 

"  Maybe  not,"  he  said  with  a  sigh,  "  but  it's 
mighty  trying  to  spend  your  time  rounding  up  long- 
haired pacifists,  shivering  slackers,  and  wild-eyed 
agitators  when  your  pals  are  on  the  fighting  front 
doing  real  work.  But  it  is  comforting  to  be  near 
you,  Hope." 


Hope  Vernon  37 

He  was  reaching  over  to  take  her  hand  when  they 
were  attracted  by  the  crunching  of  gravel  on  the 
path  leading  to  the  summer  house.  Vance  looked 
intently  in  the  direction  of  the  newcomer. 

"  Well,  bless  my  eyes,  if  it  isn't  Tommy  War- 
ner !  "  he  exclaimed. 

Both  arose  to  greet  the  dapper  little  man  who  was 
coming  jauntily  along  the  path.  Mr.  Thomas  War- 
ner, star  reporter  on  the  Washington  Planet,  was  a 
cherubic-looking  person  with  an  unfailing  flow  of 
good  humor.  He  had  stolen  away  from  his  work 
for  a  few  days  in  order  to  enjoy  the  hospitality  of 
Idlewild,  and  the  sight  of  his  old  friend  caused  his 
florid  face  to  beam  with  genuine  pleasure. 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he 
cried,  as  he  greeted  Captain  Prescott. 

"  Oh,"  was  the  laughing  response,  "  they  wanted 
a  celebrity  to  give  tone  to  this  party  and  I  consented 
to  play  the  part." 

"  That's  all  right,"  was  the  grinning  retort,  "  but 
as  one  oyster  said  to  the  other  when  they  met  in 
the  church  fair  stew, '  What  did  they  want  with  both 
of  us?'" 

"  See  here,  Tommy,"  warned  Prescott,  "  I'm  a 
friend  of  yours,  but  I  don't  think  it's  fair  to  work 
off  your  ancient  jests  on  me." 

"  Why  not?  "  queried  the  other.     "  They've  been 


38  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

tried  and  proven,  and  they're  better  than  any  of  the 
new  ones  you  fellows  have  in  the  army." 

Warner  was  one  of  the  shrewdest  men  in  his  pro- 
fession. He  had  particularly  distinguished  himself 
with  the  facility  with  which  he  had  secured  exclu- 
sive news  for  his  newspaper.  With  it  all  he  was 
known  to  be  the  soul  of  honor,  and  it  was  his  boast 
that  his  "  scoops  "  were  always  the  result  of  legiti- 
mate industry.  Vance  had  this  in  mind  when  he 
said: 

"  I'm  mightily  glad  to  see  you,  Tommy,  but  I'm 
afraid  you  will  not  get  any  exclusive  news  at  Idle- 
wild." 

"  See  here,  Vance  Prescott,"  retorted  the  irre- 
pressible one,  "  don't  you  think  a  newspaper  man 
ever  forgets  that  he  is  a  news  gatherer?  I  came 
down  here  for  a  rest,  and  I'll  thank  you  if  you  will 
call  a  halt  on  shop." 

"  But  I  thought  the  motto  of  your  craft  was, 
'  We  never  sleep.' ' 

"  You're  thinking  of  the  Intelligence  Bureau  of 
the  War  Department,"  was  the  quick  shot  of  the 
other;  "the  kind  of  newspaper  men  you  have  in 
mind  only  exist  in  fiction  or  on  the  stage." 

"  Nevertheless,  Mr.  Warner,"  chimed  in  Hope, 
"  I've  heard  that  you  were  one  of  the  most  desperate 
men  in  the  business.  They  tell  me  when  you  are 


Hope  Vernon  39 

on  the  trail  of  a  bit  of  news  you  are  like  a  blood- 
hound that  has  had  the  taste  of  blood." 

The  cherubic  one  laughed  heartily.  He  twirled 
his  eye  glasses  on  the  end  of  a  string. 

"  It  would  be  a  shame,  Miss  Vernon,  to  spoil  an 
illusion  of  that  kind.  If  you  feel  that  way  about 
it  I'll  not  be  ungallant  enough  to  contradict  you." 

Vance  smiled  in  an  indulgent  manner  at  his  news- 
paper friend. 

"  Don't  believe  him,  Hope.  He's  trying  to  make 
you  feel  that  he's  a  terrible  fellow.  But  I  can  as- 
sure you  that  you  can  talk  with  perfect  freedom,  and 
that  anything  you  say  will  be  perfectly  safe." 

Warner  held  up  a  warning  hand. 

"  Anything  but  that.  I  warn  you  not  to  tell  me 
anything  in  confidence,  because  I  won't  listen  to  it. 
The  deadliest  foe  a  newspaper  man  can  have  is  the 
person  who  gives  him  an  important  bit  of  inside 
information,  and  then  assures  him  that  it  is  told  in 
confidence.  That's  taking  an  unfair  advantage  of 
a  fellow.  It  puts  him  in  the  position  of  suppressing 
the  news.  I've  lost  many  a  good  story  in  that  way, 
and  it  makes  me  feel  that  it's  a  handicap  to  have 
friends  in  high  places.  Professor  Vernon  is  one 
of  the  biggest  sources  of  information  in  Washing- 
ton, but  I'd  hate  to  have  him  give  me  anything 
under  the  seal  of  confidence.  I'm  willing  to  take 


40  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

my  chances  in  getting  news,  but  I  don't  want  any 
strings  tied  to  it  when  I  get  it.  I  hope  you  get  my 
point  of  view.  Now,  whatever  you  do,  for  the  love 
of  goodness,  don't  tell  me  anything  in  confi- 
dence." 

They  all  joined  in  the  laugh  that  followed  this 
exposition  of  the  philosophy  of  news  gathering  as 
expounded  by  Mr.  Thomas  Warner,  of  the  Planet. 
Having  delivered  himself  in  this  manner,  the  news- 
paper guest  stroked  his  small,  black  mustache,  and 
gazed  in  an  admiring  way  at  his  two  friends. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  with  twinkling  eyes,  "  that 
I've  interrupted  an  important  conference  of  the 
powers.  Pardon  me,  I'll  withdraw." 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  exclaimed  Hope 
energetically;  "we  were  just  about  to  return  to  the 
house,  and,  if  you  don't  mind,  you  may  come 
along." 

"  I  don't  mind  in  the  least,"  replied  the  good- 
natured  and  talkative  one ;  "  it's  not  every  day  that 
I  have  the  opportunity  of  walking  between  a  beauti- 
ful girl  and  a  war  hero." 

Vance  shook  his  fist  at  Warner  in  mock  anger. 

"  If  I  didn't  love  you  so  much,  Tommy,  I'd 
slaughter  you  in  your  tracks." 

The  little  man  laughed  until  his  whole  body  shook 
with  innocent  merriment. 


Hope  Vernon  41 

"  For  an  invalid,  Vance,  you  seem  to  be  in  pretty 
good  form." 

The  trio  strolled  in  the  direction  of  the  house,  and 
on  the  way  Hope  informed  the  two  men  that  the 
party  was  really  a  small  one.  Besides  Prescott  and 
Warner  the  only  other  guests  were  May  Ward,  who 
was  engaged  to  marry  Gilbert  Vernon,  the  nephew 
of  Professor  Vernon;  and  Count  Castro,  a  South 
American  diplomat,  who  had  made  himself  useful 
to  the  Professor  in  looking  after  certain  affairs  for 
the  State  Department.  Miss  Ward,  she  confided  to 
her  friends,  was  an  ardent  patriot,  so  much  so  that 
she  had  determined  to  become  a  nurse  in  France, 
and  was  due  to  sail  for  the  other  side  in  the  course 
of  a  few  days. 

"It  seems  so  strange/'  said  Hope,  "that  while 
May  is  so  ardently  devoted  to  the  cause  of  the  war, 
Gilbert  is  just  the  reverse.  He  is  a  loyal  American 
of  course,  but- he  is  full  of  dreamy  theories  concern- 
ing the  injustice  of  all  wars.  His  talk  troubles 
father,  but  he  loves  the  boy  as  though  he  were  his 
own  son,  and  he  is  living  in  the  hope  that  he  may 
wake  up  to  the  fact  that  it  is  a  condition  and  not  a 
theory  which  confronts  the  United  States  at  this 
time." 

On  the  veranda  they  met  Miss  Ward.  She  was 
pretty,  and  full  of  life.  Vance,  when  he  was  pre- 


42  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

sented  to  her,  mentally  decided  that. she  was  as 
dainty  and  appealing  as  a  bit  of  Dresden  china. 
The  fact  that  Prescott  was  a  soldier  and  Warner  a 
journalist  interested  her  immediately,  and  she  plied 
them  with  questions  concerning  the  war.  Her 
face  flushed  when  she  spoke  of  the  great  work  that 
was  being  done  by  the  boys  from  the  United 
States. 

"  What  you  say  is  true,"  said  Vance  feelingly, 
"  but  I  can  assure  you  that  the  labor  you  are  going 
to  undertake  is  even  greater  than  that  of  the  sol- 
diers. I  honor  you  for  it,  and  I  am  sure  you  are 
going  to  be  a  treasure." 

She  colored  at  the  compliment  and  a  moment 
later  gladly  made  an  excuse  to  make  her  escape  in 
the  company  of  Hope  Vernon.  The  two  men 
watched  the  girls  as  they  went  into  the  house. 
After  they  had  gone  Warner  turned  to  Prescott. 

"  Vance,"  he  remarked,  with  a  quizzical  look  on 
his  red  face,  "  how  in  the  world  can  a  spirited  girl 
like  that  take  any  stock  in  a  slacker  like  young 
Vernon?" 

The  officer  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders. 

"  There  is  no  accounting  for  tastes,"  he  replied, 
"  especially  when  it  comes  to  a  girl  in  love." 

The  talk  drifted  to  other  topics,  and  finally  War- 
ner announced  that  he  would  have  to  go  to  his  room. 


Hope  Vernon  43 

Before  he  left  he  looked  at  his  companion  in  a 
significant  way. 

"  You  haven't  got  a  big  piece  of  news  concealed 
about  your  person,  have  you?  You  know  I'm  a  bit 
suspicious  when  I  find  an  officer  of  the  Intelligence 
Bureau  at  the  home  of  an  Assistant  Secretary  of 
State." 

Vance  laughed  uneasily. 

"  Tommy,  you  surprise  me.  Can't  a  fellow  take 
a  day  off  without  being  placed  under  suspicion  by 
the  great  American  Press  ?  " 

Warner  laughed  in  turn,  and  left  his  friend.  But 
Prescott  stood  on  the  veranda  for  some  time  think- 
ing. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  soliloquized,  "  if  Tommy  sus- 
pects anything?  " 


CHAPTER  IV 

A   STATE   SECRET 

A  FEW  minutes  after  parting  with  Warner  Vance 
found  himself  in  the  study  of  Professor  Vernon. 
The  veteran  diplomat  was  ill  at  ease.  His  first 
move  was  to  turn  the  key  in  the  lock. 

"  Privacy  seems  impossible  with  a  house  full  of 
guests,"  he  exclaimed  pettishly,  "  but  I  hope  they'll 
leave  us  alone  for  a  few  minutes.  I  promised  to  tell 
you  about  the  contents  of  the  green  wallet  and  this 
will  probably  be  the  only  chance  I'll  have.  Now, 
if—" 

"  Pardon  me,  Professor,"  interrupted  Prescott, 
"  but  I  hope  you'll  understand  that  I  don't  expect 
you  to  take  me  into  your  confidence  unless  you  think 
it  necessary." 

"  I  thought  you'd  be  interested,"  was  the  rejoin- 
der in  a  tone  of  disappointment. 

"  I  am  —  intensely.  But  I  want  you  to  know 
that  I  am  entirely  at  your  disposal  in  the  mat- 
ter." 

"  In  that  case  I'll  tell  you  all.  It  will  be  a  relief 
44 


A  State  Secret  45 

to  me.  There  are  some  secrets,  like  troubles,  that 
can  be  more  easily  sustained  when  they  are  shared 
with  a  trusted  friend." 

Francis  Vernon  still  wore  his  wine-colored  smok- 
ing jacket.  He  searched  nervously  in  the  pockets 
for  the  key  of  the  walnut  cabinet,  and  after  he  had 
located  it,  not  without  some  fumbling,  went  over 
and  opened  the  receptacle  and  brought  forth  the 
package  he  had  placed  there  an  hour  previously. 
He  tossed  it  on  the  table,  and  pointing  to  a  chair 
bade  the  young  man  be  seated.  He  glanced  about 
him  furtively  as  if  he  feared  some  hidden  enemy. 
None  appeared,  and  he  then  brought  forth  the  green 
wallet  and,  opening  it,  pulled  out  a  folded  paper.  It 
proved  to  be  two  double  sheets  of  parchment.  He 
spread  them  out  carefully  on  the  flat  top  table  and 
Vance  noticed  that  each  sheet  contained  an  official 
seal. 

"  My  boy,"  he  said  impressively,  "  these  scraps  of 
paper,  as  we  may  call  them,  would  be  worth  mil- 
lions of  dollars  to  the  Prussian  Government.  For 
all  I  know,  they  may  control  the  future  destiny  of 
the  world." 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  They  are  contracts  which  give  the  Allied  Gov- 
ernments a  monopoly  of  the  oil  fields  of  Mexico. 
Now,  perhaps  you  can  understand  why  I  have  been 


46  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

charged  to  guard  them  as  I  would  my  life.  You 
can  realize  why  I  am  so  fearful  lest  they  get  out  of 
my  possession." 

"I  —  I  can't  say  that  I  do,"  was  the  hesitating 
response ;  "  if  they  are  legal  and  completed  I  don't 
see  what  there  is  to  worry  about." 

"Ah!"  was  the  feverish  response,  "that's  the 
rub.  They  have  not  been  completed,  and  until  they 
have  been  I  will  not  know  a  peaceful  moment." 

Vance  looked  at  his  venerable  friend  with 
surprise  and  wonder.  The  Assistant  Secretary 
laughed  in  spite  of  his  anxiety.  He  pushed  a  box 
of  cigars  in  the  direction  of  the  young  man. 

"  Light  up  and  I'll  try  to  explain  myself." 

He  selected  a  Havana  Perfecto  for  himself  and 
not  until  they  were  both  blowing  rings  of  smoke 
about  the  little  room  did  he  resume  the  conversa- 
tion. 

"  About  a  month  ago,"  he  said,  contemplating 
the  ash  on  the  end  of  his  cigar,  "  we  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  we  had  reached  the  stage  when 
victory  was  in  sight  for  the  Allies.  That  did  not 
mean  in  a  day,  or  a  week,  or  a  month,  but  even- 
tually. There  was  only  one  thing  that  gave  us  any 
concern  and  that  was  the  question  of  fuel  for  the 
American  Navy,  and  for  the  Navies  of  Great  Brit- 
ain, France  and  Italy.  As  you  are  probably  aware, 


A  State  Secret  47 

oil  is  the  fuel  that  is  now  used  in  most  of  the  great 
battleships  of  the  world.  It  is  not  only  utilized  as 
the  motor  power  for  vessels  but  it  is  the  means  by 
which  we  create  those  wonderful  smoke  screens 
which  hide  the  men-of-war  from  the  sight  of  the 
enemy.  We  needed  enormous  quantities  of  this 
particular  kind  of  oil,  not  alone  for  the  transports 
and  their  escorts  which  have  been  carrying  millions 
of  our  boys  across  the  ocean  to  fight  for  the  free- 
dom of  the  world,  but  also  for  the  ships  in  the  event 
of  a  great  naval  battle." 

"  But,"  interrupted  Vance,  "  the  navy  of  the 
enemy  has  been  bottled  up  practically  since  the  be- 
ginning of  the  war." 

"  Precisely,"  said  the  venerable  one,  his  eyes  glis- 
tening with  excitement.  "  We  have  been  satisfied 
that  the  Huns  were  beaten,  or  would  be  beaten  on 
land.  We  have  had  private  and  confidential  infor- 
mation that,  driven  to  desperation,  they  would  stake 
everything  on  a  gigantic  naval  battle.  In  a  word, 
we  have  always  felt  the  possibility  of  their  making 
a  final  dash  for  freedom  on  the  seas.  Personally,  I 
have  felt  that  they  would  be  too  yellow  to  fight. 
But  there  is  always  the  chance  that  they  might  come 
out.  In  that  event  we  wished  our  vessels  to  be  am- 
ply supplied  with  this  fuel.  Mind  you,  I  don't  say 
that  we  did  not  have  a  reasonable  supply  on  hand. 


48  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

But  it  was  imperative  that  we  should  be  absolutely 
sure  of  an  unlimited  supply  —  and  that  the  enemy 
should  be  just  as  certain  not  to  have  it." 

"  I  begin  to  see,"  conceded  Vance,  nodding  his 
head  comprehendingly. 

"  I  thought  you  would,"  was  the  grateful  re- 
sponse. "  Now,"  holding  up  the  finger  of  his  right 
hand  to  drive  home  the  point,  "  you  will  realize, 
first,  that  we  had  to  have  this  fuel  for  our  trans- 
ports and  their  escorts,  and,  secondly,  for  use  in 
case  of  a  great  naval  battle.  That  being  the  case 
where  would  we  get  this  unlimited  supply?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  the  dubious  reply,  "  possibly 
in  Texas,  maybe  in  Pennsylvania." 

"Wrong!"  was  the  triumphant  retort.  "The 
oil  in  those  places  would  not  begin  to  fill  the  bill. 
The  one  place  on  this  side  of  the  ocean  was  Mexico. 
By  a  rare  stroke  of  fortune  a  great  field  of  oil  was 
discovered  in  the  neighborhood  of  Tampico.  It 
has  been  gushing  forth  by  the  millions  of  barrels. 
The  Government  of  the  United  States  immediately 
proceeded  to  take  steps  to  secure  that  oil.  I  need 
not  tell  you  the  strained  relations  between  this  coun- 
try and  Mexico  made  the  task  a  difficult  and  a  deli- 
cate one.  I  was  honored  by  being  given  the  com- 
mission to  make  a  contract  with  the  Mexican  Gov- 
ernment. At  that  stage  of  the  game  I  was  lucky 


A  State  Secret 


enough  to  come  in  contact  with  Count  Castro  — 

"  The  gentleman  who  is  now  your  guest  at  Idle- 
wild  ?  "  interrupted  Vance. 

"  The  same.  He  is  a  Spanish-American  diplo- 
mat, a  sort  of  a  soldier  of  fortune,  who  has  friendly 
relations  with  all  of  the  South  American  Govern- 
ments and  entangling  alliances  with  none  of  them. 
I  gave  him  an  incentive  to  work  with  me.  He  was 
offered  a  handsome  commission  to  act  as  an  agent 
or  a  go-between  in  the  matter." 

"  Did  he  accept  —  did  he  succeed  ?  "  asked  Pres- 
cott. 

"  Beyond  our  wildest  expectations.  Under  the 
new  Mexican  Constitution  the  Government  took 
possession  of  these  oil  wells.  Manuel  Velasque, 
the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  was  given  full  power 
to  lease  the  wells  or  sell  the  oil.  We  needed  the 
oil.  Mexico  needed  our  money.  The  situation 
was  all  that  could  be  desired.  To  make  things  bet- 
ter still,  Count  Castro  knew  Velasque,  and,  after 
some  parleying,  and  an  advance  payment,  we  were 
able  to  come  to  terms  and  to  draw  up  a  satisfactory 
contract." 

Vance  was  silent  and  thoughtful.  Presently  he 
said: 

"  Professor,  as  long  as  you  have  progressed  to 
such  a  point  how  is  it  that  you  did  not  finish  the 


50  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

contract  by  attaching  the  signature  of  some  author- 
ized official  of  the  United  States?  " 

"  Well  put,  my  boy,  but  it  is  just  here  that  the 
most  interesting  part  of  the  story  presents  itself. 
To  make  it  clear  I  must  tell  you  that  we  are  frankly 
disliked  by  many  of  the  Mexicans.  Yes,  I  know 
what  you  would  say,  that  we  are  their  friends  if 
they  would  only  give  us  a  chance,  and  all  of  that, 
but  the  misunderstanding  is  there,  and  it  can't  be 
wiped  out  in  a  day.  Well,  the  Mexican  Minister 
of  the  Interior  was  a  little  bit  chary  about  dealing 
with  us  at  first.  He  knew  the  country  needed  the 
money,  and  that  it  was  a  good  business  deal  for 
Mexico  from  every  point  of  view,  but  he  thought 
of  the  day  when  it  would  become  public  property, 
and  he  knew  that  it  would  not  enhance  the  popular- 
ity of  a  government  that  hasn't  been  any  too  popu- 
lar anyhow.  It  was  then  that  the  big  idea  took 
root.  We  lifted  the  whole  business  to  an  interna- 
tional plane  —  we  made  it  a  world  affair.  It  was 
suggested  that  Great  Britain,  France,  Italy  and  the 
United  States  should  become  parties  to  the  con- 
tract, that  they  should  severally  and  jointly  be- 
come responsible  for  its  fulfillment." 

"  How  was  that  received  ?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  With  open  arms,"  replied  the  Professor,  "  if 
I  may  use  such  a  metaphor  in  such  a  connection. 


A  State  Secret  51 

It  was  flattering  to  the  pride  of  Sefior  Velasque 
that  his  signature  should  appear  upon  a  great  con- 
tract in  company  with  that  of  the  American  Secre- 
tary of  State,  and  that  of  the  British,  French  and 
Italian  Ambassadors.  It  did  not  take  long  after 
that  to  complete  the  Mexican  end  of  the  transac- 
tion. It  was  signed,  sealed  and  delivered,  so  far 
as  they  -were  concerned.  You  will  notice  the  great 
seal  of  Mexico  on  the  document  there,  and  the  sig- 
nature of  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  duly  attested 
by  two  competent  witnesses.  It  now  became  nec- 
essary to  secure  the  other  signatures  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, and  that  is  where  the  first  delay  came  in." 

"  Surely,"  commented  Prescott,  "  they  did  not 
hesitate  about  signing  such  a  necessary  contract." 

"  Not  at  all,  but,  unfortunately,  we  could  not 
assemble  our  star  cast  on  short  notice.  The  British 
Ambassador  had  died,  as  you  may  recall,  and  his 
successor  had  not  yet  reached  Washington.  The 
French  Ambassador  was  off  in  the  West,  making 
patriotic  speeches,  and  the  Italian  representative 
was  in  California.  They  have  all  been  communi- 
cated with,  and  they  are  expected  in  Washington  in 
a  short  while.  In  the  meanwhile  the  Secretary  of 
State,  wishing  to  surround  the  ceremony  with  a 
touch  of  sentiment,  decided  that  the  Ambassadors 
should  meet  in  his  office,  and  sign  the  pact  on  the 


52  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

anniversary  of  the  sinking  of  the  Lusitania,  which 
will  occur  on  the  seventh  of  May." 

"  That,"  remarked  Vance,  making  a  mental  cal- 
culation, "  is  seven  days  from  now." 

"  Precisely,  and  I  wish  it  were  to-morrow,  in- 
stead of  a  week.  Goodness  knows  what  may  hap- 
pen in  the  meantime." 

"  Surely,"  was  the  laughing  reply,  "  nothing  can 
happen  in  that  time." 

"  Ah,  my  boy,  don't  fool  yourself.  We  are  liv- 
ing in  unbelievable  times.  Anything  improbable 
may  happen  in  these  days.  Think  of  the  whole 
world  at  war.  Who  would  have  believed  such  a 
thing  five  years  ago?  Imagine  the  Czar  of  Russia 
being  dethroned  over  night,  afterward  executed  like 
a  common  criminal.  Consider  Russia  in  the  throes 
of  a  revolution,  beside  which  the  French  Reign  of 
Terror  was  as  nothing,  and  then  tell  me  that  the 
unusual  is  not  likely  to  happen.  You  are  young 
and  hopeful,  but  I  look  for  much  sadness  before  the 
world  finally  adjusts  itself  to  the  new  conditions." 

"  You're  right  —  as  usual,"  conceded  Prescott, 
"  but  I  am  still  puzzled  to  understand  why  the  docu- 
ment was  taken  from  its  safe  hiding  place  in  Wash- 
ington and  brought  here." 

"  I  thought  I  had  made  that  clear,"  was  the  re- 
ply, a  trifle  wearily.  "  We  began  to  feel  uneasy  a 


A  State  Secret  53 

week  ago  when  some  important  papers  were  taken 
from  the  Department.  It  is  known  that  the  con- 
tract was  in  the  safe,  and  there  are  reckless  men 
who  would  take  big  chances  for  a  prize  of  this  kind. 
I'm  satisfied  that  some  new  causes  for  alarm  have 
arisen  and  that  is  why  the  Secretary  sent  the  con- 
tract to  me." 

"  So  that  is  the  story  of  the  green  wallet,"  mused 
Vance. 

"  Yes  —  so  far  as  it  has  gone,"  replied  the  As- 
sistant Secretary  of  State,  "  and  I  want  to  say  that 
the  mere  telling  of  it  has  been  a  relief  to  me.  I  feel 
now  that  the  responsibility  has  been  shared  with 
you." 

"  That's  a  cheerful  way  to  look  at  it,"  laughed 
the  young  man,  "  and  in  any  event  you  may  count 
on  me  to  the  extent  of  my  ability." 

The  two  men  smoked  in  silence  for  some  time. 
Prescott  was  thinking  of  the  remarkable  story  that 
had  been  related  to  him,  while  the  venerable  one 
was  mentally  picturing  himself  in  the  act  of  deposit- 
ing the  contract  in  his  safe  deposit  box  in  the  local 
bank  on  the  following  morning. 

"  I  don't  suppose,"  said  Vance  presently,  "  that 
you  anticipate  any  difficulty  from  the  Mexican  end 
of  the  line.  They've  signed  and  that  settles  that 
part  of  the  transaction." 


54  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  So  far  as  Velasque  is 
concerned  all  is  well.  But  the  Prussians  conduct  a 
constant  propaganda  in  Mexico,  and  if  it  leaks  out 
that  such  a  contract  has  been  made,  influence  may 
be  brought  to  bear  upon  the  President  of  that 
country  to  nullify  it.  A  thousand  things  may  hap- 
pen, and  I,  for  one,  will  not  feel  easy  until  the  busi- 
ness has  been  legally  completed." 

"  But  the  United  States  might  go  and  take  the 
oil  anyhow." 

"  Ah ! "  was  the  retort  with  a  pathetic  smile, 
"  the  United  States  does  not  do  business  that  way. 
One  of  the  reasons  we  are  fighting  this  war  is  to 
demonstrate  the  sacredness  of  a  scrap  of  paper, 
once  it  has  been  legally  executed.  We  couldn't 
and  wouldn't  place  ourselves  in  the  position  of  do- 
ing that  which  we  condemn  in  an  adversary." 

"  Certainly  not,  certainly  not,"  admitted  Vance 
hastily;  "  I  didn't  mean  to  suggest  anything  of  the 
sort.  I  was  only  trying  to  anticipate  every  pos- 
sible contingency,  and  to  wonder  what  might  be 
possible  under  any  condition  that  might  arise." 

"  Well,"  was  the  emphatic  comment,  "  the  con- 
tingency at  which  you  hint  will  never  be  permitted 
to  arise  in  this  country." 

"  Does  any  one  in  the  house  know  the  contract 
is  here  ?  " 


A  State  Secret  55 

"  Certainly  not,"  was  the  positive  reply,  "  we  two 
are  the  only  ones  that  have  any  idea  the  paper  is  at 
Idlewild." 

"  That  was  my  understanding,"  agreed  Vance, 
"  but  I  was  wondering  if  you  had  taken  Count  Cas- 
tro into  your  confidence,  and  whether  you  had  any 
reason  to  question  his  disinterestedness." 

A  shade  of  displeasure  crossed  the  face  of  Fran- 
cis Vernon. 

"  Count  Castro  is  a  guest  in  my  house,  and  — " 

"  Please  do  not  misunderstand  me,"  pleaded 
Vance.  "  You  have  volunteered  this  information, 
and  I  simply  wanted  as  much  light  on  the  subject  as 
possible." 

"  Well,  I  can  simply  repeat  that  the  Count  does 
not  know  that  the  paper  has  been  brought  to  Idle- 
wild.  You  will  be  presented  to  him  as  another  of 
my  guests  —  as  you  are.  So  far  as  he  is  concerned 
I  should  say  that  it  is  entirely  to  his  interest  to  see 
that  the  contract  is  completed.  As  I  have  told 
you,  he  is  to  receive  a  handsome  commission  for  his 
part  in  bringing  it  about,  but  he  will  not  get  this  un- 
til the  signatures  of  the  representatives  of  all  of  the 
powers  have  been  attached  to  the  paper." 

"That  makes  the  matter  quite  clear,"  said  Pres- 
cott,  seeking  to  mollify  his  friend,  "and  we  know 
just  where  we  stand." 


56  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

It  was  dusk  by  this  time,  but  the  two  men  had 
been  so  deeply  interested  that  the  lights  had  not 
been  turned  on  in  the  study.  There  was  one  win- 
dow in  the  room  and  from  this  could  be  seen  the 
trees  and  shrubbery  in  the  garden.  The  Professor, 
who  had  been  pacing  the  room  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  conversation,  now  approached  the  table 
and  folded  up  the  momentous  document.  He  re- 
placed it  in  the  green  wallet,  and  deposited  it  in  the 
official  envelope.  Vance  remained  seated  while  the 
Professor  went  to  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  go- 
ing down  on  one  knee,  placed  it  in  the  walnut  cab- 
inet. He  locked  the  receptacle  and  put  the  key  in 
his  pocket.  At  that  moment  Prescott  was  con- 
scious of  a  shadow  crossing  the  room.  He  was  sure 
they  were  alone,  but  the  momentary  flash  gave  him 
a  sense  of  uneasiness.  He  looked  up,  and  he  could 
have  sworn  that  he  saw  a  face  flattened  against  the 
window. 

He  rose  agitatedly. 

"  Professor !  "  he  shouted,  "  do  you  see  any  one 
out  there?" 

Vernon  looked  in  the  direction  indicated,  and 
turned  to  the  young  man  with  a  glance  of  sur- 
prise. 

"  I  don't  see  a  thing,"  he  replied. 

Both  men  hurried  to  the  door  and  thence  out 


A  State  Secret  57 

into  the  grounds.  They  walked  to  the  outside  of 
the  window,  and  then  made  a  circuit  of  the  house. 
But  the  grounds  were  deserted,  and  as  far  as  they 
could  see  no  one  was  in  sight. 


CHAPTER  V 

VANCE  DISCOVERS   A    RIVAL 

IT  was  just  before  dinner  that  Vance  was  pre- 
sented to  Count  Castro,  and,  in  spite  of  his  pre-dis- 
position  against  the  man,  he  found  himself  strongly 
attracted  to  him.  He  was  tall,  thin,  erect  and  with 
the  quickness  of  a  fox  in  his  movements.  He  had 
dark  brown  skin,  a  hawk-like  nose,  and  little,  sharp 
beady  eyes  that  seemed  to  take  in  everything  at  a 
glance.  He  held  out  a  long,  lean  hand  to  Prescott, 
and  the  young  man,  almost  unconsciously,  noted 
that  it  was  supple  and  strong. 

"  This  is  a  real  pleasure,"  he  said,  bowing  low, 
"  to  meet  a  hero  of  the  great  war." 

"  Not  a  hero,"  corrected  Vance  stiffly,  "  but  one 
who  is  home  when  he  should  be  on  the  firing  line." 

The  count  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  Americans,"  he  said  playfully,  "  you  so 
dislike  to  hear  praise.  But  why?  If  a  man  paints 
a  great  picture  he  is  eager  for  the  praise  of  the 
critics.  If  he  composes  an  opera  he  longs  for  the 
applause  of  the  audience  Why  should  a  soldier 

58 


Vance  Discovers  a  Rival  59 

be  different?  In  his  way  he  is  greater  than  the 
other  two.  He  rights  in  defense  of  his  country." 

"  I  am  not  a  soldier  by  profession,"  protested  the 
young  man,  feeling  at  a  curious  disadvantage  with 
the  smooth-tongued  foreigner.  "  I  simply  joined 
the  army  —  like  thousands  of  my  countrymen  — 
when  war  was  declared." 

"  But  Miss  Hope  tells  me  you  have  shed  your 
blood  for  your  cause  —  for  the  cause  in  which  we 
are  all  enlisted." 

Vance  was  annoyed.  He  tried  to  conceal  his  ir- 
ritation. He  chose  to  do  so  by  changing  the  con- 
versation. 

"  I  understand  that  you  are  a  Mexican,  Count?  " 

Castro  bowed. 

"  I  was  born  in  that  unhappy  country  and  I  still 
have  friends  and  relatives  there,  but  most  of  my  life 
has  been  spent  in  other  parts  of  South  America  — 
especially  in  Argentine." 

"  Your  talk  indicates  a  familiarity  with  English 
speaking  countries." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  conceded  the  Count  spreading  out  the 
palms  of  his  hands.  "  I  have  spent  much  time  in 
London  and  in  your  own  beautiful  City  of  Wash- 
ington." 

Vance  felt  a  sort  of  fascination  in  watching  the 
man.  He  was  dressed  with  great  precision.  He 


60  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

wore  a  violet  in  the  button  hole  of  his  coat  and  it 
rested  there  as  though  that  were  the  one  place  in 
the  world  it  was  intended  to  ornament.  He  had 
a  habit  of  reaching  for  his  chin  as  if  to  stroke  a 
beard,  and  then  seeming  surprised  at  not  rinding 
it.  He  was  all  animation,  talking  and  gesticulating 
at  the  same  time.  It  was  impossible  not  to  be  in- 
terested in  the  Spanish-American  with  the  face  of 
a  fox,  the  hands  of  a  woman  and  the  manners  of 
a  dancing  master.  He  was  sly,  he  was  subtle,  and 
yet  he  gradually  won  your  confidence  with  his  air 
of  frankness. 

It  was  at  the  moment  dinner  was  announced  that 
Gilbert  Vernon  entered  the  room  and  approached 
the  two  men.  Instantly  the  Count  was  at  atten- 
tion. 

"  My  dear  Captain  Prescott,"  he  said,  with  one 
of  his  impressive  gestures,  "  it  becomes  my  pleasure 
to  present  you  to  Mr.  Gilbert  Vernon,  the  nephew 
of  our  honored  host." 

Vance  put  out  his  hand  to  the  newcomer. 

"  An  introduction  is  hardly  needed,"  he  said, 
"  we've  met  before." 

"  Yes,"  murmured  the  other,  not  very  graciously, 
"we've  met  before." 

Vance  had  taken  the  young  man's  hand  in  his 
own  with  a  hearty  grasp,  but  there  was  no  respon- 


Vance  Discovers  a  Rival  61 

sive  grip  from  Vernon.  It  was  like  holding  a  fish 
that  had  ceased  to  struggle.  For  the  rest  of  it  Gil- 
bert Vernon  was  not  unpleasant  to  look  upon.  He 
was  smooth-faced,  sallow  complexioned,  dreamy- 
eyed  and  absent-minded.  The  tortoise-shell  spec- 
tacles he  wore  served  to  accentuate  a  certain  oddity 
in  his  appearance  and  manners. 

May  Ward  stole  up  to  him  shyly  as  the  greetings 
were  going  on  and  the  two  of  them  went  in  the  din- 
ing room  together.  The  Count  gazed  after  them 
with  an  adoring  glance. 

"  How  touching  it  is,  my  dear  Captain  Prescott, 
to,  see  two  hearts  that  beat  as  one,  two  minds  with 
but  a  single  thought." 

"  Yes,"  retorted  Vance,  thoughtlessly,  "  but  in 
this  case  the  two  minds  do  not  seem  to  think  alike 
in  everything." 

"  Ah,"  replied  the  dark-skinned  one,  "  you  no 
doubt  refer  to  my  young  friend's  views  upon  social 
conditions.  He  is  radical,  I  admit  it,  he  is  radical 
but  age  will  bring  with  it  a  sobering  influence.  But 
he  has  a  great  heart,  Captain ;  a  heart  as  big  as  his 
body." 

After  the  dinner  was  under  way,  the  South 
American  proved  to  be  the  life  of  the  company. 
Vance  was  too  much  occupied  with  feasting  his 
eyes  on  Hope  to  pay  very  great  attention  to  the  meal 


62  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

or  the  conversation.  But  presently  he  became  the 
target  for  Tommy  Warner's  wit,  and  after  that  he 
had  to  be  on  the  alert  to  ward  off  the  verbal  bom- 
bardment. Professor  Vernon  joined  in  the  talk  at 
intervals  but  he  was  plainly  depressed  and  pre-occu- 
pied.  He  watched  his  nephew  as  though  he  feared 
an  outbreak  from  that  quarter.  It  came  —  sooner 
than  he  had  anticipated.  Some  one  had  been  glori- 
fying the  work  of  the  soldiers. 

"  Well,  if  you  want  my  candid  opinion,"  said  Gil- 
bert Vernon,  glowering  at  the  company  through  the 
thick  glass  of  his  spectacles,  "I  think  the  very 
worst  use  you  can  put  a  man  to,  is  to  make  him  a 
soldier." 

"  Oh,  Gilbert!  "  cried  May  Ward,  "  how  can  you 
say  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  him,  Miss  Ward,"  interposed 
Vance;  "  he's  just  indulging  in  rhetoric." 

"No,  I'm  not,"  was  the  obstinate  retort.  "I 
don't  believe  in  war  —  I  believe  in  construction  and 
not  in  destruction." 

"  Now  I  know  you're  just  juggling  with  words," 
cried  Prescott,  still  in  a  bantering  tone,  "  you  might 
as  well  say  you  do  not  believe  in  the  weather  or  the 
tides,  as  to  say  you  do  not  believe  in  war.  War  is 
a  condition  and  not  a  theory  and  has  to  be  faced. 
Now,  if  you  mean  to  say  you  do  not  like  war,  that's 


Vance  Discovers  a  Rival  63 

a  different  thing  and  I  agree  with  you  heartily." 

"  But  if  men  refused  to  fight  there  would  be  no 
war,"  asserted  Gilbert  sullenly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Vance,  "  but  there  are  worse 
things  than  fighting  and  one  of  them  is  to  submit  to 
injustice.  You  say  you  don't  believe  in  war.  You 
don't  believe  in  injustice,  do  you?  " 

"  I  contend,"  said  the  young  theorist,  "  that  there 
isn't  any  wrong  that  can't  be  adjusted  by  arbitra- 
tion." 

"Well,  that's  where  we  differ,"  came  the  hot 
retort;  "if  some  brute  came  into  your  house  and 
murdered  your  mother  and  sister  you  wouldn't 
write  him  a  polite  letter  and  ask  him  to  submit  the 
matter  to  arbitration,  would  you  ?  Yet  that's  whatf 
some  white-livered  people  would  have  done  when 
our  women  and  children  were  murdered  on  the 
Lusitania" 

"You're  putting  words  in  my  mouth.  I  haven't 
tried  to  justify  that  crime.  We  have  declared  war, 
and,  as  an  American,  I  stand  by  my  country.  But 
that  doesn't  mean  that  I  wouldn't  favor  an  honor- 
able peace." 

"  Peace  with  a  murderer  wouldn't  be  honorable. 
It  would  be  disgraceful." 

Professor  Vernon  looked  distressed  at  the  turn 
the  conversation  had  taken:  Hope,  with  flushed 


64  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

face,  gazed  steadily  at  her  plate.  It  was  Count 
Castro  who  endeavored  to  pour  oil  on  the  troubled 
waters. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  soothingly,  "  you  are  both 
right.  You  don't  however  seem  to  get  the  point  of 
view  of  my  young  friend.  He  is  an  idealist,  and 
idealists  are  nearly  always  misunderstood." 

Gilbert  gave  him  a  grateful  look  and  addressed 
his  conversation  to  him. 

"  My  idea,"  he  said,  "  is  if  justice  were  estab- 
lished in  the  world  we  would  have  no  war.  Our 
trouble  in  this  country  is  that  we  have  millionaires 
on  the  one  hand  with  their  palaces  and  motor  cars 
and  on  the  other  millions  of  paupers  starving  to 
death." 

"  That's  nonsense,  Gilbert,"  interposed  Professor 
Vernon  quietly. 

"  It's  not  nonsense,"  cried  the  other  vehemently ; 
"  the  workingman  hates  his  employer ;  he  does  his 
work  under  protest  because  he  feels  he  is  being 
robbed  of  his  just  share,  and  this  inequality  is  up- 
held by  the  majority  because  the  press,  the  schools 
and  the  church  are  owned  by  the  capitalists." 

"  You  are  indulging  in  mere  figures  of  speech, 
Gilbert,"  said  Tommy  Warner,  joining  in  the  con- 
versation. "  I  work  on  a  newspaper  that  is  not 
controlled  by  capitalists.  It  is  a  perfectly  legiti- 


Vance  Discovers  a  Rival  65 

mate  enterprise,  and  I  know  it  is  the  aim  of  the 
owner  to  give  his  readers  the  truth,  to  the  best  of 
his  ability.  There  are  hundreds  of  such  news- 
papers. Your  other  assertions  are  just  as  baseless. 
You  can't  prove  that  there  are  millions  of  paupers 
in  this  country.  As  for  workingmen  and  employ- 
ers, I  can  truthfully  say  that  the  workingman  of  to- 
day may  be  the  millionaire  of  to-morrow.  In  this 
favored  land  many  of  them  began  without  a  dollar, 
without  any  capital  except  brains  and  energy.  We 
have  evils  to  cure,  but  they  can't  be  cured  by  vis- 
ionary schemes." 

"  Bravo,"  cried  little  May  Ward,  clapping  her 
hands,  "  you're  an  orator,  Mr.  Warner." 

At  this  point  in  the  conversation,  Gilbert  Vernon 
tossed  his  napkin  aside  with  a  scowl  and,  rising,  left 
the  room.  A  strained  silence  followed  the  exhibi- 
tion of  ill  manners.  It  was  Count  Castro  who  par- 
tially relieved  the  situation. 

"  Our  young  friend  means  well,  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen," he  said,  apologetically,  "  but,  as  you  can 
see,  he  is  temperamental,  and  persons  with  a  tem- 
perament must  not  be  too  hastily  judged.  If  you 
will  pardon  me,  I  will  set  things  right." 

And  with  a  graciousness  that  was  not  to  be  de- 
nied he  bowed,  arose  and  followed  Gilbert  from 
the  room.  The  talk  proceeded  with  fits  and  starts 


66  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

after  that  and  every  one  was  relieved,  a  few  minutes 
later,  when  Professor  Vernon  gave  the  signal  to 
leave  the  table. 

After  dinner  when  most  of  the  guests  had  as- 
sembled in  the  roomy  living  room,  the  discussion 
proceeded  in  a  desultory  way.  But  presently  May 
Ward  took  her  place  at  the  piano  and  attention  was 
distracted  from  the  unpleasant  subject.  Professor 
Vernon  seemed  to  be  relieved  and  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity he  took  Vance  to  one  side  and  spoke  to  hin: 
with  deep  feeling. 

"  My  boy,"  he  said,  "  I  hope  you  will  not  get  any 
false  impressions  from  what  has  been  said  to-night. 
I'm  sure  Gilbert  is  loyal  to  the  backbone,  but  he 
has  been  carried  away  by  his  foolish  theories  and  he 
is  led  to  say  things  he  does  not  mean.  I  —  " 

"  Professor,"  interrupted  Prescott,  "  the  fact 
that  he  is  your  nephew  and  that  I  am  in  your  house 
is  sufficient  for  me.  I  would  not  dream  of  finding 
disloyalty  at  the  fountain  head  of  loyalty." 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  feel  that  way,"  said  the  As- 
sistant Secretary  of  State  with  evident  relief. 
"  I'm  intensely  interested  in  this  war  and  my 
nephew's  idiosyncracies  give  me  great  pain.  There 
never  has  been  a  war,  since  the  Revolution,  in  which 
a  Vernon  has  not  played  an  honorable  part.  All 
of  the  male  members  of  the  family  are  extinct  — 


Vance  Discovers  a  Rival  67 

those  of  army  age  —  except  Gilbert,  and  his  failure 
to  go  with  the  army  or  navy  fills  me  with  secret 
shame.  He  is  not  legally  a  slacker  because  his  de- 
fective eye-sight  has  caused  him  to  be  placed  in  a 
deferred  class.  But  were  I  his  age,  I'd  throw 
away  my  spectacles  and  nothing  could  keep  me 
from  the  fighting  front." 

"  Perhaps  there  is  a  reason  in  his  case,"  sug- 
gested Vance  gently. 

"  There  is  an  explanation,  and  I've  never  told  it 
to  any  one  else.  My  brother,  who  was  Gilbert's 
father,  was  a  Captain  in  the  United  States  Army 
during  the  Spanish-American  War.  He  was  shot 
and  killed  at  the  Battle  of  Santiago.  My  sister 
had  been  ill  for  some  time  —  an  affection  of  the 
heart  —  and  when  the  news  was  broken  to  her  sud- 
denly, she  dropped  dead.  Gilbert  was  thus  left  an 
orphan  under  tragic  circumstances.  He  was  just 
old  enough  to  realize  the  horror  of  the  thing,  and 
I  don't  believe  he  has  ever  entirely  recovered  from 
the  shock.  I  brought  him  to  my  home  and  I  have 
raised  him  as  I  would  my  own  son.  But  he  still 
broods  over  it  and  he  has  conceived  an  abnormal  fear 
of  warfare.  Now,  you  know  his  history,  and  you 
may  be  able  to  find  an  excuse  for  his  talk." 

"  Most  assuredly  I  do,"  was  the  hearty  response. 
"  I  only  wish  I  had  the  chance  to  show  him  my  sym- 


68  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

pathy.  Perhaps,  eventually,  he  may  overcome  his 
morbidness  and  look  at  both  peace  and  war  in  their 
true  light." 

"  Perhaps,  perhaps !  "  sighed  the  older  man,  "  but 
I've  almost  given  up  hope.  He's  drifted  into  the 
question  of  social  injustice  and  that  hasn't  im- 
proved his  disposition.  God  knows  there  are 
wrongs  enough  to  be  righted  but  we  can't  right  one 
wrong  by  committing  a  second  wrong.  We  must 
have  government  of  some  kind  and  a  curb  to  the 
passions  of  men.  The  theories  Gilbert  advocates 
would  lead  to  anarchy.  If  proof  of  that  be  needed 
we  only  have  to  turn  to  Russia." 

"Don't  worry  about  Gilbert,"  counseled  Vance; 
"  he'll  come  all  right  in  time." 

"  I  hope  so,  but  he  feels  that  the  world's  all 
wrong  and  that  he  was  born  to  set  it  right.  Brood- 
ing of  that  kind  leads  to  insanity.  However,  I'm 
going  to  try  and  be  cheerful  about  it.  Some  great 
shock  may  make  him  normal  just  as  the  other  shock 
made  him  abnormal." 

"  This  war  should  be  shock  enough  for  any  one," 
suggested  Prescott. 

"  It's  more  than  enough  for  me,"  said  Vernon 
with  a  sad  smile,  "  but  if  I'm  not  placed  in  a  false 
light  by  the  boy's  talk  I'll  be  satisfied." 

At  this  point  May  Ward  approached  the  two  men. 


Vance  Discovers  a  Rival  69 

Professor  Vernon  excused  himself  in  order  to 
mingle  with  his  guests.  The  girl  turned  to  the 
young  officer  with  a  wistful  smile. 

"  Captain  Prescott,"  she  said,  "  I  can't  tell  you 
how  much  I  admire  your  robust  Americanism. 
You've  proven  it  too  by  going  to  the  front.  I'm 
sure  you  fear  no  man  —  " 

"  But,"  interrupted  Vance  with  a  bow,  "  I  do 
fear  the  compliments  of  a  pretty  girl." 

She  flushed. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  think  I'm  indulging  in  cheap 
compliments.  I  mean  what  I  say  or  I  wouldn't  say 
it.  It  thrills  me  to  see  a  man  who  will  cheerfully 
fight  for  his  country." 

Vance  bowed, 

"  And  it  delights  me  to  see  a  woman  who  is  win- 
ing to  make  a  sacrifice  for  her  country  —  a  woman 
like  yourself." 

Her  cheeks  were  rosy  by  this  time. 

"  I'm  sure  you're  not  laughing  at  me,  Captain 
Prescott." 

"  Indeed  I'm  not,"  he  said  with  unmistakable 
sincerity.  "  I  feel  that  the  work  you  are  going  to 
undertake  is  just  as  brave  as  that  of  any  soldier." 

"  Ah,  I  didn't  mean  that,"  she  said  hastily ;  "  I 
was  speaking  of  the  fine  way  you  stood  up  for  loy- 
alty. I  —  I  feel  grateful  for  your  attitude  toward 


70  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

Gilbert.  You  refuted  his  foolish  talk,  but  you  were 
not  unkind  to  him.  Believe  me,  Captain,  he  has  a 
generous  heart  and  if  the  crisis  comes  he  will  give 
a  good  account  of  himself." 

"  I  understand,  Miss  Ward,"  responded  Vance 
gently,  "  and  I  admire  your  faith  in  the  young  fel- 
low." 

Presently  they  drifted  to  other  topics  and  found 
one  another  quite  congenial.  While  they  chatted 
Vance  glanced  around  the  room.  The  company 
had  unconsciously  divided  itself  into  pairs.  Hope 
Vernon  and  Count  Castro  were  talking  to  one  an- 
other in  animated  tones.  It  was  evident  that  he 
was  urging  her  to  play  the  piano.  She  protested  at 
first,  but  presently  yielded,  and  he  led  her  to  the  in- 
strument with  all  the  ceremony  of  a  subject  toward 
his  sovereign.  Hope  chose  a  selection  from 
Robin  Hood  and  played  with  a  spirit  and  dash 
that  brought  applause  from  the  entire  company. 
The  Count  leaned  over  and  taking  her  by  the 
hand  congratulated  her  effusively  on  her  perform- 
ance. 

"  Somehow,"  said  Miss  Ward,  "  I  have  a  feeling 
of  distrust  toward  the  Count." 

Vance,  who  had  been  watching  the  scene  with 
jealous  eyes,  tried  to  speak  impartially. 

"  Perhaps  that  is  just  a  prejudice  because  he  is  a 


Vance  Discovers  a  Rival  71 

foreigner  —  if  you  can  call  a  South  American  a 
foreigner  in  the  United  States." 

"  No,"  she  replied,  perching  her  head  on  one 
side  in  a  judicial  manner,  "  I  don't  think  it's  that. 
I  think  an  awful  lot  of  Hope  Vernon  and  that's 
probably  why  I  don't  like  the  Count." 

Vance  laughed  outright. 

"  That  sounds  like  feminine  logic." 

Hope  and  the  Count  had  seated  themselves  on 
a  couch  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  and  the  fox- 
like  one  was  devoting  himself  to  her  with  lover-like 
attention.  If  she  disliked  it,  she  gave  no  evidence 
of  the  fact.  She  hid  her  head  behind  her  large 
fan  and  whispered  to  him,  and  Castro,  in  turn, 
spoke  to  her  in  a  confidential  manner,  and  with  ex- 
pressive outspreading  of  the  hands.  In  spite  of 
himself  Vance  felt  a  curious  contraction  of  the 
heart.  If  any  one  had  told  him  that  he  was  jealous 
he  would  have  laughed  that  one  to  scorn  —  yet  how 
account  for  this  strange  sensation?  The  voice  of 
May  Ward  aroused  him  from  his  reverie. 

"  I  don't  think  they  are  fitted  for  each  other  at 
all  —  that's  my  opinion." 

"  Fitted  for  each  other  ?  "  queried  Vance  with 
surprise  on  his  frank  countenance ;  "  why  should 
they  be?" 

"  Well,"    was   the    retort,    "  when   a   man   and 


72  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

woman  contemplate  matrimony,  they  should  have 
some  traits  in  common." 

Captain  Prescott  felt  a  numbness  about  the  heart. 
He  was  perfectly  conscious  and  yet  the  room  and 
the  occupants  took  on  a  different  aspect.  He  spoke 
and  the  sound  was  like  the  voice  of  another  man. 

"  How  —  how  do  you  know  they  —  they  —  con- 
template —  " 

"Well,"  said  the  brisk  little  lady,  "  maybe  I 
shouldn't  put  it  just  that  way,  but  Gilbert  told  me 
that  Count  Castro  had  gone  to  Professor  Vernon 
and  asked  his  permission  to  pay  attention  to  Hope." 

"And  —  and  what  did  he  say?"  asked  Vance, 
with  the  sensation  of  a  man  who  is  drowning. 

"Well,"  chirped  the  young  woman,  "if  he's  like 
most  American  fathers,  he'll  refer  the  gentleman  to 
his  daughter." 

The  laughter  and  chatter  went  on  as  before  and 
everybody  seemed  to  be  having  an  enjoyable  even- 
ing. But  Vance  Prescott  sat  there  like  a  man  who 
has  suddenly  lost  the  power  of  speech. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A   WARNING   FROM    BARNES 

PROFESSOR  VERNON  and  Vance  Prescott  sat  up 
late  that  night.  They  had  many  things  to  talk 
about.  With  the  older  man  it  was  the  Mexican 
contract.  With  the  young  officer  it  was  Hope  Ver- 
non.  He  approached  the  subject  with  some  mis- 
givings. If  there  was  an  engagement  between 
Hope  and  the  Count,  it  would  be  impertinent  for 
him  to  speak.  And  if  there  was  not  —  well,  it 
called  for  delicacy  and  diplomacy.  A  reference  to 
May  Ward  and  Gilbert  Vernon  gave  Vance  his  op- 
portunity. 

"  Count  Castro  seems  to  have  a  great  admiration 
for  your  daughter." 

A  spasm  of  pain  crossed  the  countenance  of  the 
Assistant  Secretary. 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  with  a  gesture  of  annoy- 
ance. "  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  Castro  has  spoken 
to  me  about  Hope." 

"  Why  sorry  ?  "  asked  Prescott. 

"  Well,"  was  the  slow  reply  of  the  man  who 
73 


74  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

weighed  his  words  with  care,  "  I  don't  altogether 
think  they  are  suited  to  one  another.  There  is  a 
difference  in  age,  nationality  and  —  and  tempera- 
ment. Both  Count  Castro  and  Hope  are  exceed- 
ingly temperamental  and  two  persons  of  that  kind 
are  not  likely  to  be  happy.  Are  they?" 

Vance  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  —  I'm  afraid  I  wouldn't  be  a  disinterested  wit- 
ness in  this  particular  case." 

Vernon  looked  at  him  sharply. 

"  You  are  interested  in  Hope  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  Very,  very  much.  More  so  than  is  good  for 
my  peace  of  mind.  But  what's  the  use  of  talking 
about  it  if  she  cares  for  Castro?" 

"  Who  said  she  cared  for  him  ?  " 

"  Well,"  stammered  Vance,  "  that  is  —  I  mean 
she  acted  in  that  way." 

"  Don't  jump  at  conclusions,"  growled  the  white- 
haired  one. 

Prescott  rose  from  his  chair  and  going  over  to 
Vernon  took  his  hands  impulsively. 

"  You  mean  there  is  hope  for  me !  "  he  exclaimed 
fervently. 

"  I  didn't  say  anything  of  the  kind,"  he  retorted 
with  good-natured  sarcasm.  "  Just  sit  down  and 
try  to  be  rational.  I  can  tell  you  this :  Hope  will 
not  engage  to  marry  any  one  without  informing  me 


A  Warning  from  Barnes  75 

of  the  fact.  She  has  not  yet  given  me  any  such 
information.  On  the  other  hand,  I  propose  to  leave 
her  free  to  select  her  own  husband.  She  is  of  age 
—  or  nearly  of  age  —  she  has  been  given  the  best  of 
training  and  her  future  life  must  rest  with  herself. 
Yet  for  the  reasons  I  mentioned  a  few  moments 
ago  I  would  be  sorry  to  have  her  marry  Count 
Castro.  But  in  defense  of  that  gentleman  I  will  say 
that  there  are  scores  of  girls  in  Washington  who 
would  be  only  too  glad  to  share  his  companionship 
and  his  title.  So  far  as  I  am  aware  there  is  nothing 
to  be  said  against  his  character.  Indeed,  I  am  un- 
der some  obligations  to  him.  He  has  made  it  pos- 
sible for  me  to  secure  this  contract  with  the  Mexi- 
can Government  —  and  I  feel  grateful." 

"  But  that  would  not  make  you  favor  his  suit 
for  Miss  Hope's  hand?"  suggested  Vance  bluntly. 

"  Not  at  all,"  was  the  frank  reply,  "  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  shall  not  feel  justified  in  saying  or 
doing  anything  against  him.  He  is  a  guest  in  my 
house,  like  yourself,  and  he  shall  be  treated  fairly 
and  decently." 

"  In  other  words  you  propose  to  remain  neu- 
tral?" 

"  You  have  said  it,  my  boy.  The  phrase  is  diplo- 
matic, but  it  fits  the  case  exactly.  You  both  have 
a  fair  field  and  no  favor.  May  the  best  man  win  — 


76  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

and  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  regard  you  as 
the  best  man." 

While  they  smoked,  the  two  men  were  suddenly 
aroused  by  the  toot-toot  of  an  automobile  horn. 
They  listened  intently,  and  the  Professor,  turning  to 
Vance,  said: 

"  That's  a  machine  coming  up  the  roadway. 
What  does  it  mean  at  this  hour  of  the  night?  " 

They  could  hear  the  wheels  crunching  along  the 
graveled  pathway  in  front  of  the  house.  The  next 
moment  they  heard  footsteps  on  the  veranda,  and 
the  whirring  of  the  electric  door  bell.  All  of  the 
servants  had  retired,  and  the  Professor  answered 
the  call  himself.  Vance  followed  him  closely. 
Before  Vernon  drew  the  bolts  he  turned  on  the  elec- 
tric lights  and  the  veranda  was  flooded  with  light. 
The  door  was  opened  suddenly. 

There  before  them  stood  Bromley  Barnes,  the 
veteran  investigator,  looking  somewhat  disheveled, 
and  splashed  with  mud  from  his  journey. 

"  My  dear  Barnes !  "  exclaimed  the  Professor, 
"  this  is  a  surprise  —  and  a  pleasure  too !  " 

The  detective  grinned. 

"  I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you,  and  Prescott,  too, 
but  I  can  assure  you  that  I  am  not  making  a  party 
call." 

"  Come  in,  come  in,"  cried  Vernon.     "  It  doesn't 


A  Warning  from  Barnes  77 

make  any  difference  what  brings  you  to  Idlewild. 
You're  welcome." 

"  I  guess  you'll  have  to  put  me  up  for  the  night, 
so  if  you  don't  mind  I'll  run  the  machine  into  the 
garage  first." 

"  Very  well,  I'll  go  with  you  if  Vance  here  will 
stand  guard  at  the  door." 

The  host  and  his  unexpected  guest  ran  the  auto- 
mobile around  to  the  shed  in  the  rear  of  the  house 
while  Prescott  remained  at  the  doorway,  gazing 
into  the  moonlit  night.  They  returned  in  a  few  min- 
utes, and  then,  after  locking  and  bolting  the  door, 
the  three  men  retired  to  the  cozy  study  of  the  Pro- 
fessor. Vernon,  who  was  the  soul  of  hospitality, 
would  not  let  his  visitor  say  a  word  until  he  had 
given  him  a  sociable  "  nip  "  as  he  called  it,  and  pro- 
vided him  with  a  fragrant  Havana  cigar. 

"  Now,"  he  exclaimed  cheerfully,  "  tell  us  your 
troubles." 

"  First,"  insisted  Barnes,  "  I  want  to  know  if 
Prescott  delivered  the  package  this  afternoon,  and 
whether  it  is  safe." 

"  It  was  delivered,"  was  the  consoling  reply, 
"  and  is  safe  and  sound  in  that  cabinet  before  your 
eyes." 

"  Ah !  "  breathed  the  detective  with  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief. "  Now  you  make  me  feel  better." 


78 


"  Why,  what  else  did  you  expect  ?  " 

"  That,"  said  Barnes,  "  brings  me  to  my  story. 
The  Secretary  sent  for  me  this  afternoon,  and  said 
he  had  just  come  into  possession  of  information 
which  made  him  feel  very  uneasy.  It  seems  that 
the  enemy  has  confidential  agents  in  Mexico  who 
have  learned  in  some  way  of  the  pact  which  you 
are  about  to  conclude  in  the  matter  of  the  oil  wells. 
How  they  heard  of  this  is  neither  here  nor  there. 
It  is  sufficient  that  they  are  willing  to  move  heaven 
and  earth  to  prevent  the  consummation  of  the  deal. 
The  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  to  his  credit,  is  will- 
ing to  stand  pat,  but  just  how  long  he  can  withstand 
the  pressure  that  will  be  put  upon  him  is  hard  to 
tell.  In  the  meantime,  as  we  would  say  in  this 
country,  he  has  '  taken  to  the  woods.'  If  we  can 
complete  the  signing  of  the  document  all  will  be 
well.  But,  in  the  interval,  the  agents  of  the  enemy 
will  do  everything  in  their  power  to  get  the  docu- 
ments you  have  in  that  cabinet." 

"  But  do  they  know  the  copies  of  the  contract  are 
down  here  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  they  do,  and  that  is  the  reason  for 
my  trip  here  at  this  unearthly  hour  of  the  night. 
To-day,  while  the  Secretary  was  out  of  his  office 
for  a  few  minutes,  some  one  managed  to  open  his 
safe  and  ransacked  the  papers.  Fortunately,  they 


A  Warning  from  Barnes  79 

got  nothing  of  value,  but  he  is  convinced  that  they 
were  after  the  Mexican  papers.  He  has  reason  to 
feel  that  Prescott  was  followed  here,  and  that  is 
why  I  was  sent  down  to  give  you  this  extra  warn- 
ing. It  would  not  surprise  me  at  all  if  they  made 
an  attempt  to  get  the  document.  Now  that's  all. 
What  have  you  got  to  say  about  it?  " 

"  Not  a  word,"  was  the  smiling  rejoinder,  "ex- 
cept to  thank  you  for  coming.  We  have  two  de- 
tectives in  the  house  now,  and  if  we  lose  the  docu- 
ment it  will  be  our  own  fault.  The  only  question 
to  consider  is  what  to  do  with  the  contract.  I  have 
a  little  safe  in  the  living  room,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  would  be  -the  first  place  they  would  go  to  hunt 
for  it." 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Barnes,  "  that  seems  reason- 
able." 

"  One  of  us  might  take  it  to  bed,  but  it  appears 
rather  crude  to  do  a  thing  of  that  kind.  It's  like 
putting  a  will  in  a  stove  for  safe  keeping,  and  then 
have  some  one  come  along  and  light  the  fire.  The 
only  other  plan  is  to  let  it  stay  in  the  cabinet  all 
night,  and  then  take  it  to  the  local  bank  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning.  That  was  the  program 
which  had  been  agreed  on  between  Vance  and  my- 
self." 

"  Well,"  said  Barnes,  after  meditating  for  a  few 


80 


moments,  "  that  sounds  all  right  to  me.  Suppose 
we  let  it  go  at  that." 

"We  will,  unless  you  can  suggest  something 
better." 

"  Have  you  a  dog?  "  suddenly  asked  Barnes. 

"  Yes  —  a  good  watch  dog." 

"  That's  just  the  thing.  We  have  got  to  guard 
against  those  skulking  Mexicans.  Where  do  you 
keep  your  dog  ?  " 

"  He's  usually  in  a  box  back  of  the  garage." 

"  Well,  you've  got  to  make  sure  that  he's  turned 
loose  to-night.  Suppose  we  go  and  see." 

Thereupon  the  three  men  proceeded  into  the  night 
and  back  to  the  dog  kennel.  A  fierce  growling 
greeted  them  but  the  familiar  voice  of  his  master 
had  the  effect  of  soothing  the  animal. 

"  Why;  he's  chained !  "  exclaimed  Vernon  as  they 
reached  the  box." 

The  head  of  the  house  scratched  his  white  hair  in 
bewilderment. 

"  I  could  have  sworn  that  I  turned  him  loose  to- 
night. Maybe  it  was  some  other  night.  But  there, 
there,  my  memory  has  been  playing  me  strange 
tricks  lately." 

Barnes  gave  a  dry  chuckle. 

"  Possibly,"  he  said,  "  some  one  around  here 
thought  it  might  be  bad  for  the  dog's  health  to 


A  Warning  from  Barnes  81 

have  him  prowling  around  the  grounds  at  night." 
Vernon,  busy  unfastening  the  chain  that  was  at- 
tached to  the  animal's  collar,  did  not  hear  the  re- 
mark. 

"  Now,  Nero,"  he  said,  "  enjoy  yourself." 
The  liberated  dog  gave  every  human  manifesta- 
tion of  joy.     He  danced  and  pranced  and  shook  his 
shaggy  head  and  licked  the  hands  of  Francis  Ver- 


non. 

"  T' 


I'm  very  fond  of  him,"  said  his  owner.  "  I 
brought  him  from  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  some 
years  ago  and  he's  become  quite  a  fixture  at  Idle- 
wild." 

Nero,  despite  his  affectionate  disposition,  was 
fierce  and  powerful.  He  was  wolf-like  in  his 
movements,  and  the  erect  ears  and  pointed  nose  be- 
tokened an  unusual  canine  intelligence.  It  needed 
no  second  glance  to  feel  assured  that  this  would 
be  a  good  watch  dog  and  one  that  would  quickly 
give  the  alarm  in  case  of  any  attempt  to  rob  the 
house.  The  three  men  returned  to  the  house,  leav- 
ing Nero  bounding  around  the  grounds  like  a  boy 
just  released  from  school. 

The  hands  on  the  clock  in  the  sitting  room 
pointed  to  one  in  the  morning  and  Vance  made  that 
an  all-sufficient  excuse  for  retiring.  Professor 
Vernon  escorted  Barnes  to  his  room  and  thus  the 


82  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

three  men  separated  for  the  night.  Prescott's 
room  was  in  the  rear  of  the  house.  Just  below  it 
was  a  low  shed,  and  overlooking  this,  one  could  see 
the  garage.  Vance  was  very  tired  and  he  expected 
to  go  to  sleep  at  once.  But,  to  his  surprise,  he  found 
himself  tossing  about  the  bed  with  a  restlessness 
that  was  as  unusual  as  it  was  pronounced.  Try  as 
he  could,  it  was  impossible  to  woo  slumber.  His 
mind  reverted  to  the  various  incidents  of  the  day, 
the  telegram  from  Vernon,  the  call  at  the  State  De- 
partment, the  skulking  Mexicans,  the  delivery  of  the 
green  wallet,  the  story  of  the  secret  contract,  the 
meeting  with  Hope  Vernon,  the  scene  at  the  dinner 
table,  the  discovery  that  he  had  a  rival  in  Count 
Castro  and  finally  the  arrival  of  Bromley  Barnes  and 
his  dramatic  warning  of  the  possible  attempt  to  re- 
cover the  precious  papers. 

He  heard  the  grandfather's  clock  in  the  hall  be- 
low strike  the  hour  of  two  and  after  that  he  fell 
into  a  troubled  sleep.  He  had  queer  dreams  and 
in  the  midst  of  them  he  was  awakened  by  the  loud 
barking  of  a  dog.  He  remembered  Nero  and  the 
precautions  they  had  taken  with  him  and  immedi- 
ately he  leaped  from  his  bed.  He  peered  out  of  the 
window  into  the  darkness  of  the  night.  He  could 
not  see  anything  and  the  barking  of  the  dog  had 
ceased. 


A  Warning  from  Barnes  83 

"  I  guess  I've  had  a  touch  of  nightmare,"  he 
grumbled,  as  he  threw  himself  into  bed  again. 

Ten  minutes  later  he  thought  he  heard  sounds  at 
his  bed  room  window,  but  an  investigation  failed 
to  furnish  any  proof.  He  tossed  about  again  for 
some  time,  and  then  relapsed  into  that  state  of  semi- 
consciousness  which  is  the  borderland  between  sleep 
and  wakefulness.  Suddenly  he  was  aroused  by  a 
crashing  sound  in  the  lower  part  of  the  house. 
There  could  be  no  mistake  this  time.  In  a  trice 
he  leaped  from  beneath  the  covers,  hastily  put  on 
his  bath  robe  and  made  his  way  into  the  broad  hall 
on  the  second  floor.  Apparently  he  was  the  only 
one  in  the  house  who  had  been  disturbed  by  the 
racket. 

He  stood  still  and  listened.  He  could  have 
sworn  that  he  heard  a  man's  voice  mumbling  an 
oath. 

Carefully,  and  on  tip-toe,  he  made  his  way  to 
the  head  of  the  stairway  leading  to  the  lower  floor. 
He  remained  standing  there  for  a  long  while,  wait- 
ing to  catch  the  slightest  sound.  The  strain  was 
intense.  Presently  his  patience  was  rewarded. 
He  heard  the  sound  of  shuffling  feet.  There  was 
an  impatient  ejaculation,  followed  by  the  striking 
of  a  match.  Vance  descended  two  or  three  steps 
and  leaned  over  so  far  that  he  was  in  danger  of  los- 


84  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

ing  his  balance.  But  the  flame  of  the  match  en- 
abled him  to  get  a  look  at  the  prowler.  It  was  a 
man  only  partially  dressed,  and  evidently  in  a  bad 
humor.  Who  was  he,  and  what  was  he  doing  there 
at  that  hour  of  the  night?  While  these  thoughts 
were  rushing  through  his  mind,  the  man  turned  to 
walk  toward  the  stairway  and  Vance  caught  a  mo- 
mentary glance  at  his  face.  The  revelation  caused 
him  to  almost  tumble  over  the  rail. 

And  no  wonder,  for  the  supposed  intruder  was 
Tommy  Warner. 

He  was  not  in  his  usual  merry  mood.  Indeed,  he 
was  acting  very  suspiciously  and  was  in  a  bad  hu- 
mor into  the  bargain.  As  Vance  looked,  the  match 
burned  down  to  the  end  of  his  ringer.  It  must  have 
scorched  him  for  he  dropped  it  with  a  muttered  im- 
precation. This  gave  the  watcher  on  the  stairway 
an  opportunity  to  retire  gracefully.  Prescott  made 
his  way  back  to  his  own  room,  but  he  left  the  door 
ajar  so  that  he  might  see  what  Warner  did.  He 
felt  half -ashamed  of  himself  for  seeming  to  spy  on 
his  friend,  but  he  had  been  so  wrought  up  over  the 
events  of  the  night  before  that  he  just  watched  with- 
out debating  the  ethics  of  the  thing. 

While  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bed,  he  could  hear 
the  newspaper  man  slowly  and  cautiously  ascending 
the  stairs.  He  walked  along  the  hallway  like  a. 


A  Warning  from  Barnes  85 

man  feeling  his  way.  His  room  was  on  the  same 
corridor  as  that  of  Prescott  and  almost  opposite. 
As  he  passed  the  door  Vance  noticed  that  the  noc- 
turnal prowler  carried  something  under  his  arm. 
It  might  have  been  a  book  or  a  package.  It  was  im- 
possible to  distinguish  in  the  dark.  Warner  kept 
on  until  he  reached  his  own  door,  walked  in  and 
locked  it.  Vance  peered  over  in  that  direction  and 
from  the  stream  of  light  that  immediately  showed 
itself  through  the  transom  he  knew  that  Warner  had 
turned  on  the  electricity. 

Vance  went  to  bed  again  frankly  puzzled.  Un- 
der ordinary  circumstances  he  would  have  thought 
nothing  of  the  incident.  But  in  the  state  of  mind  in 
which  he  found  himself  everything  seemed  to  take 
on  a  new  meaning  and  significance.  He  had  great 
confidence  in  Tommy  Warner.  The  very  idea  of 
suspecting  him  of  anything  improper  was  repug- 
nant to  his  sense  of  loyalty.  But  in  spite  of  all 
that  he  found  himself  speculating  upon  the  reasons 
for  that  midnight  ramble. 

He  had  heard  and  read  a  great  deal  about  som- 
nambulism. Might  it  not  be  possible  that  the  young 
journalist  was  walking  in  his  sleep?  There  were 
some  amazing  cases  on  record  —  cases  that  involved 
tragic  consequences.  He  turned  this  thought  over 
in  his  mind  for  some  time,  and  finally  rejected  it  as 


86  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

fantastic,  if  not  impossible.  A  sleep  walker  might 
pick  up  an  article  and  carry  it  from  one  room  to 
another,  but  would  he  be  capable  of  lighting  a 
match?  And  who  ever  heard  of  a  somnambulist 
swearing  in  a  muffled  voice.  No,  he  finally  de- 
cided, whatever  Tommy  Warner  was  doing,  he  was 
not  walking  in  his  sleep.  At  that  point  in  his  mental 
debate  Vance  began  to  feel  drowsy.  Tired  nature 
asserted  itself  and  he  drifted  into  a  troubled 
slumber. 

It  was  daylight  when  he  awakened,  but  the  mom- 
ent he  opened  his  eyes,  the  events  of  the  previous 
night  came  to  him  with  crystal-like  clearness.  His 
first  thought  was  for  the  safety  of  the  precious 
paper  that  lay  in  the  green  wallet.  It  was  quite 
early.  None  of  the  servants  seemed  to  be  stirring. 
But  in  spite  of  that  fact  Vance  dressed  quickly  and 
made  his  way  down  stairs.  In  the  hallway  he  met 
Francis  Vernon. 

"Good  morning!"  he  exclaimed;  "I'm  glad 
you're  about.  We'll  get  Barnes  and  take  that  docu- 
ment over  to  the  local  bank." 

"  But  the  bank  will  not  be  open  ?  " 

The  Professor  smiled. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  go  immediately.  We'll  have 
breakfast  and  then  stroll  over,  and  by  that  time 
some  one  in  authority  will  be  there.  I've  been 


A  Warning  from  Barnes  87 

dreaming  about  this  confounded  business.  I've 
been  in  deathly  fear  of  some  one  breaking  in  during 
the  night." 

"  Evidently,"  said  Vance,  with  a  reassuring 
laugh,  "  your  fears  have  been  groundless." 

"  I  hope  so.  Please  look  around  you  and  see  if 
everything  is  secure." 

The  two  men  made  a  tour  of  the  lower  part  of 
the  house  and  found  everything  in  order.  The 
front  door  was  locked  and  bolted  as  it  had  been 
the  night  before  and  all  of  the  other  doors  and 
windows  were  securely  fastened.  The  Professor 
gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  That  makes  me  feel  better.  Now  I'll  get  pos- 
session of  the  contract  before  any  one  comes  to  dis- 
turb us." 

He  walked  into  the  little  study,  followed  by  Pres- 
cott.  He  opened  the  window  to  get  the  light  and 
then  knelt  down  before  the  little  walnut  cabinet. 
He  took  the  key  from  his  pocket  and  opened  the 
door.  There  was  a  momentary  pause  and  then  he 
began  searching  the  recesses  of  the  cabinet.  Pres- 
ently he  pulled  forth  the  manila  envelope  of  the 
State  Department.  He  looked  inside  of  it  and  as 
he  did  so  the  color  left  his  face.  He  looked  a  sec- 
ond time  and  then  searched  every  part  of  the  wal- 
nut receptacle.  He  staggered  backward  and  would 


88  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

have  fallen  if  he  had  not  caught  hold  of  the  back 
of  a  friendly  chair. 

"  My  God,  Vance,"  he  finally  gasped  in  a  husky 
voice,  "  the  wallet's  gone  and  I'm  ruined !  " 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   GOLD-HEADED   PENCIL 

FRANCIS  VERNON  presented  a  pitiable  spectacle 
as  he  sank  into  the  chair  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  had  been  mortally  stricken.  There  was  a 
hunted  look  in  his  eyes  and  he  seemed  to  have  aged 
in  those  few  moments.  After  the  first  outburst  he 
became  dazed,  looking  at  Prescott  out  of  glazed  and 
helpless  eyes. 

"  I'm  not  thinking  of  myself,"  he  said,  with  a 
pathetic  wave  of  the  hand;  "  the  shame  of  letting  it 
out  of  my  possession  is  bad  enough,  but  the  conse- 
quences may  be  infinitely  worse.  Prescott,  the  des- 
tinies of  the  world  hinged  upon  the  contents  of  that 
wallet." 

Vance  placed  his  hand  gently  upon  the  shoulders 
of  the  venerable  diplomat. 

"Don't  distress  yourself,  Professor,"  he  begged; 
"  it's  bad  enough,  but  it  may  not  be  as  bad  as  you 
imagine.  Let  me  look  into  the  cabinet." 

He  did  so,  but  without  results.  While  he  was 
down  on  his  hands  and  knees  there  came  a  sound 

89 


90  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

on  the  staircase,  and  Bromley  Barnes  joined  them. 

"  Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  he  cried  in  his 
cheery  manner.  "  I  hope  you  find  yourselves  well 
and  happy." 

A  groan  was  the  only  response  from  the  man 
seated  on  the  chair.  Vance  looked  at  the  detective 
in  a  reproachful  way. 

"What's  the  matter?"  snapped  the  veteran  in- 
vestigator. "  Neither  of  you  seem  to  be  in  very 
good  humor." 

"  The  Mexican  papers  have  been  stolen,"  said 
Prescott  shortly. 

Barnes  was  accustomed  to  surprises,  but  the 
abruptness  of  this  announcement  left  him  speechless 
for  the  moment.  Presently  he  turned  to  the  young 
officer. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  he  commanded. 

Vance  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  made  a  wry 
smile. 

"  There  isn't  anything  to  tell  except  that  the  Pro- 
fessor has  just  opened  the  cabinet,  and  the  papers 
we  placed  there  last  night  have  disappeared." 

The  detective  had  recovered  himself  by  this  time 
and  he  stooped  down  and  began  to  examine  the  re- 
ceptacle. There  were  no  marks  on  the  door,  and 
the  cabinet  was  not  even  scratched.  He  turned  to 


\r 


ernon. 


The  Gold-Headed  Pencil  91 

"  Whoever  gained  access  to  that  cabinet  did  so  by 
unlocking  the  door  of  the  thing." 

"  But,"  protested  the  Professor,  "  how  could  that 
be  when  the  key  has  been  in  my  possession  ?  " 

Barnes  made  no  reply  to  this,  but  walked  to  the 
rear  of  the  little  affair  and  examined  it  closely. 
He  pulled  out  a  magnifying  glass  and  covered 
every  square  inch  of  the  woodwork.  After  awhile 
he  put  the  glass  back  in  his  pocket  and  shook  his 
head  mournfully. 

"  No,"  he  said,  more  to  himself  than  the  others, 
"  I  had  a  notion  that  the  back  of  the  cabinet  might 
have  been  taken  off,  but  the  screws  have  not  been 
disturbed,  and  there  isn't  the  sign  of  a  scratch." 

The  three  men  looked  at  one  another  in  a  helpless 
sort  of  way,  and  then  Barnes  asked  suddenly: 

"  Have  either  of  you  been  outside?  " 

They  shook  their  heads  in  the  negative,  and  then 
the  detective,  unbolting  and  unlocking  the  front 
door,  made  his  way  into  the  grounds.  He  walked 
to  the  side  of  the  house  where  they  had  left  the  dog 
the  night  before.  He  began  to  look  for  the  animal, 
but  he  did  not  have  to  go  far.  He  had  only  pro- 
ceeded a  few  paces  when  he  beheld  Nero  stretched 
flat  on  the  ground. 

He  whistled. 

"Hello,  Nero,"  he  called.     "Come  here!" 


92  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

But  the  dog  never  moved.  The  cause  was  soon 
apparent.  Nero  was  stiff  and  stark  in  death. 
While  the  detective  stood  gazing  at  the  innocent 
victim  he  was  joined  by  the  other  two  men.  They 
instantly  realized  what  had  happened.  There  was 
something  suspiciously  like  moisture  in  the  eyes  of 
Francis  Vernon. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  confessed.  "  I've  had  him  so 
long  that  he  seemed  human  to  me.  Poor  Nero! 
His  watching  days  are  over." 

While  he  was  speaking,  Barnes  was  making  a 
survey  of  that  part  of  the  grounds.  Presently  he 
came  across  a  bit  of  torn  meat.  He  pointed  to  it. 

"  That  tells  the  story.  The  dog  was  poisoned. 
He  was  faithful  unto  death.  That  is  the  best  you 
can  say  of  any  one  —  man  or  beast." 

The  procession  back  to  the  house  was  rather  mel- 
ancholy. Vance  entered  before  the  others  and  in- 
stinctively made  for  the  little  study.  He  halted  in 
front  of  the  cabinet  and  looked  around  it  absently. 
Suddenly  the  glitter  of  some  bright  object  on  the 
floor  attracted  his  attention.  He  stooped  down 
and  picked  it  up.  For  a  moment  he  was  puzzled  to 
give  it  a  name.  But  it  came  to  him  very  quickly. 

It  was  the  gold-headed  pencil  he  had  seen  in  the 
back  hair  of  Hope  Vernon. 

He  gazed  at  it  and  the  inanimate  thing  brought 


HE  THRUST  THE  PENCIL  INTO  HIS  POCKET 


The  Gold-Headed  Pencil  93 

the  picture  of  the  girl  before  his  mental  vision.  He 
was  drifting  into  a  pleasant  day  dream  when  he 
heard  approaching  footsteps.  Without  knowing 
why,  he  thrust  the  pencil  into  his  pocket;  Barnes 
and  the  Professor  entered  the  room. 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  the  detective,  with  a  return 
of  his  cheery  manner,  "  have  you  found  anything?  " 

"  Nothing  having  any  bearing  on  the  case,"  he 
equivocated. 

The  moment  he  spoke  he  could  have  bitten  his 
tongue.  His  impulse  was  to  pull  out  the  article,  but 
to  have  done  so  under  the  circumstances  would 
have  given  it  a  significance  to  which  it  was  not  en- 
titled. If  he  had  simply  handed  the  pencil  to  the 
Professor  when  he  entered  the  room,  nothing  more 
would  have  been  thought  of  it.  But  by  that 
thoughtless  act  of  concealment  he  had  —  in  his  own 
mind  at  least  —  placed  Hope  Vernon  under  suspi- 
cion. It  was  perfectly  preposterous,  of  course,  but 
his  mind  was  in  such  a  whirl  that  he  could  scarcely 
be  held  accountable  for  its  fantastic  twists.  How- 
ever, the  pencil  was  in  his  pocket  and  he  would  have 
to  wait  for  the  first  favorable  opportunity  of  re- 
turning it  to  her. 

"  Barnes,"  he  heard  Vernon  saying  to  the  de- 
tective, "  I  don't  know  how  in  the  world  I'll  break 
the  news  of  this  loss  to  the  Secretary.  I've  been 


The  Ambassador's  Trunk 


in  the  Department  the  greater  part  of  my  life  and 
this  is  the  first  time  I've  permitted  an  important 
paper  to  go  astray.  And  such  an  important  paper ! 
It's  too  much  for  me.  I  don't  know  how  to  tell 
him." 

Bromley  Barnes  looked  at  the  veteran  diplomat 
in  silence  for  some  moments.  Then  he  uttered  one 
emphatic  word. 

"  Don't." 

"  Don't  what  ?  "  asked  the  agitated  Vernon. 

"  Don't  tell  the  Secretary.  It  won't  do  any  good. 
He's  got  enough  troubles  on  his  mind.  He  couldn't 
help  us  anyhow.  I'll  pass  the  word  to  the  Chief  of 
the  Secret  Service.  He'll  put  his  force  at  work. 
And  in  the  meantime  we'll  move  heaven  and  earth 
to  get  those  contracts.  We  have  a  week  ahead  of 
us.  If,  at  the  end  of  that  period,  we  have  failed, 
it  will  be  time  enough  to  tell  the  Secretary." 

The  diplomat  looked  at  Barnes  gratefully. 

"  I  believe  you're  right  —  anyhow  it  will  give  me 
time  to  think." 

"Well,"  said  the  detective  briskly,  "let's  get 
down  to  business.  We  know  everybody  in  the 
house  and  we're  satisfied  that  no  one  has  left  since 
last  night." 

"  I  think  not." 

"  Very  good,"  commented  the  investigator ;  "  now 


The  Gold-Headed  Pencil  95 

I  propose  to  start  this  in  the  French  way.  I'm 
going  to  regard  everybody  in  the  house  guilty  until 
I  am  satisfied  of  their  innocence.  Do  you  get  me 
—  everybody  —  servants  and  guests  ?  " 

"  Just  what  do  you  mean?  "  asked  the  Professor, 
who  was  slowly  regaining  his  self-possession. 

"  Simply  that  we've  got  to  make  a  thorough 
search  of  this  house,  and  everybody  in  it." 

Vernon  gave  a  gesture  of  repugnance. 

"  These  people  are  my  guests  —  and  my  friends." 

"  All  the  more  reason,"  retorted  Barnes,  "  why 
they  should  want  to  help  you  at  this  critical  time." 

"  But,  my  dear  friend,  I  can't  afford  to  proclaim 
to  the  world  that  I've  lost  a  paper  that  is  of  inter- 
national importance." 

Barnes  eyes  twinkled. 

"We  won't  be  quite  that  raw,"  he  explained; 
"  my  idea  is  to  have  you  announce  that  you've 
lost  a  green  wallet,  containing  valuable  papers. 
You  may  even  say  that  it  has  been  stolen  from  the 
cabinet.  Beg  them  to  help  you  to  find  it.  I'll  guar- 
antee that  every  one  in  the  house  will  ask  to  be 
searched  and  will  ask  you  to  search  their  rooms. 
If  any  one  should  refuse,  then  that  one  becomes  a 
legitimate  object  of  suspicion." 

Professor  Vernon  winced.  It  was  plain  that  the 
plan  did  not  appeal  to  him  at  all.  But  he  shrugged 


96  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

his  shoulders  as  one  who  yields  to  the  inevi- 
table. 

"  I'll  do  as  you  say,  Barnes.  If  I  refused  I  might 
place  myself  under  suspicion.  You  know  the  wal- 
let — " 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense !  "  exclaimed  the  veteran 
explosively.  "  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  every- 
body connected  with  the  Government  has  the  most 
explicit  confidence  in  you.  You  might  go  and  tell 
them  about  the  theft,  and  that  would  end  the  matter 
as  far  as  you  are  concerned.  But  I  thought  you 
wanted  to  try  to  find  the  thing  yourself  — " 

"  I'd  do  anything  in  the  world  to  recover  it,"  in- 
terrupted Vernon,  "  and,  to  prove  it,  I'll  do  anything 
you  say  without  further  protest.  But  if  the  cul- 
prit should  be  in  the  house  won't  he  be  on  his  guard 
with  two  Secret  Service  men  here  ?  " 

Barnes  raised  an  impressive  forefinger. 

"  That's  where  you  are  all  wrong.  I'm  supposed 
to  be  on  the  retired  list.  No  one,  not  even  Tommy 
Warner,  knows  that  I've  been  doing  special  work 
for  the  Government  since  the  war  started.  And  as 
far  as  Vance  here  is  concerned  not  a  soul  suspects 
that  he  is  in  the  Intelligence  Bureau  of  the  War  De- 
partment." 

"  Very  well,"  agreed  the  Professor;  "  I'm  in  your 
hands  until  the  seventh  of  May.  But  if  the  docu- 


The  Gold-Headed  Pencil  97 

ment  has  not  been  recovered  by  that  time,  I'll  know 
that  my  public  career  is  ended." 

Vance  placed  a  comforting  hand  upon  the  diplo- 
matic shoulder. 

"  I'll  pledge  you  my  word,"  he  cried  with  resolu- 
tion, "  that  your  career  will  not  be  ended." 

The  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  stairway  brought 
an  end  to  the  conversation.  Vance  looked  up  and 
beheld  Hope  Vernon  making  her  way  slowly  to 
the  first  floor.  Even  before  she  reached  the  landing 
he  noticed  that  she  was  very  pale  and  had  dark 
lines  under  her  blue  eyes.  He  felt  for  the  gold- 
headed  pencil  in  his  pocket  and  debated  whether  to 
give  it  to  her  at  once,  or  to  wait  until  he  had  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  her  alone.  She  kissed  her 
father  good  morning  and  spoke  pleasantly  to  Barnes. 
But  when  Vance  greeted  the  girl  she  gave  him  the 
curtest  possible  nod,  and  went  her  way  without 
uttering  a  word.  It  was  like  a  dash  of  cold  water 
in  his  face.  What  had  he  done  to  deserve  such 
treatment.  He  tried  to  think  of  all  that  had  taken 
place  since  his  arrival,  but  he  could  not  remember 
having  offended  her.  He  was  perplexed.  If  she 
had  shown  anger,  he  might  have  gone  to  her  and 
demanded  an  explanation,  but  this  silent  contempt 
was  more  than  he  could  understand. 

The  appearance  of  Tommy  Warner  on  the  scene 


98  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

diverted  his  thoughts  to  another  channel.  The 
young  newspaper  man  was  beaming  with  good  na- 
ture. He  twirled  his  eye  glasses  on  the  end  of  their 
black  string,  and  expressed  the  hope  that  all  of 
those  present  had  enjoyed  a  good  night's  rest. 

"If  you  have,"  he  cried,  with  his  cherubic  smile, 
"  it's  more  than  I  can  say.  If  this  thing  keeps  on, 
I'll  have  to  take  some  cure  for  insomnia.  I  had  to 
read  myself  to  sleep  last  night." 

Vance  watched  his  friend  critically  while  he  was 
speaking,  but  there  was  nothing  in  that  jovial  face 
to  proclaim  the  villain,  and  nothing  in  his  careless 
prattle  to  indicate  that  he  was  the  party  to  a  deep- 
laid  plot.  Prescott's  first  impulse  was  to  ask 
Tommy  what  he  was  doing  downstairs  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  night.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  start 
the  question,  but,  before  he  could  finish  it,  Warner 
had  launched  into  one  of  his  everlasting  stories,  and 
that  made  serious  talk  impossible.  Besides,  if 
Tommy  Warner  had  so  far  forgotten  himself  as  to 
"  go  after  a  story  "  while  he  was  under  the  roof  of 
his  host,  he  would  not  scruple  to  conceal  the  fact 
from  his  best  friend. 

Gilbert  Vernon  came  down  while  they  were  talk- 
ing and  his  presence  did  not  add  to  the  gayety  of 
the  occasion.  In  the  glare  of  the  morning  light 
he  looked  even  less  impressive  than  he  had  on  the 


The  Gold-Headed  Pencil  99 

previous  evening.  His  pasty  complexion  and  the 
uncertain  eyes,  blinking  through  the  spectacles  with 
the  tortoise-shell  rims,  gave  him  a  sort  of  uncanny 
appearance. 

"  Gilbert,  my  boy,"  cried  the  effervescent  Tommy, 
pointing  to  Prescott,  "  gaze  upon  the  army  —  one 
of  the  main  props  of  our  common  country,  and  after 
you  have  feasted  your  eyes  upon  him,  turn  them  in 
my  direction  and  look  upon  the  press  —  the  bulwark 
of  our  liberties." 

Gilbert  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  guess  you  mean  the  main  props  of  the  capi- 
talistic class,"  he  sneered. 

Vance  flushed  and  tried  to  fight  down  a  desire  to 
thrash  the  spectacled  critic.  He  succeeded  and  said : 

"  I'll  wager  that  your  opinion  is  not  shared  by 
the  women  and  children  of  Belgium." 

But  young  Vernon  had  already  passed  into  the 
living-room  and  paid  no  attention  to  the  soldier's 
retort.  Warner  turned  to  Prescott  with  a  conta- 
gious laugh. 

"  Vance,  we  don't  seem  to  make  much  of  a  hit 

% 

with  our  dreamy-eyed  friend." 

"  No,"  was  the  quick  reply ;  "  I  guess  a  little  more 
action  and  less  dreaming  would  help  to  make  a  man 
out  of  him." 

Warner  held  up  a  cautioning  finger. 


100  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"If  you  care  for  Hope  Vernon  you'd  better  not 
let  her  hear  you  talk  that  way  about  the  amateur 
socialist." 

"Why?" 

"  Simply  because  she's  wrapped  up  in  the  young 
dunce.  Think's  he's  a  victim  of  circumstances  and 
environment  and  all  that  sort  of  rot.  Feels  that  as 
his  cousin,  she's  got  to  protect  him  from  a  cruel 
world.  Do  you  get  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  sighed  Vance,  "  I  get  you." 

Bad  news  travels  quickly  and  by  this  time  every 
one  in  the  house  knew  of  the  theft  of  a  green  wallet 
containing  valuable  papers.  Barnes  had  cross- 
questioned  the  servants  and  the  Professor  had  talked 
with  his  guests.  The  last  person  to  come  down- 
stairs was  Count  Castro,  looking  as  if  he  had  just 
emerged  from  the  proverbial  band-box.  The  violet 
in  his  buttonhole  showed  that  he  had  not  neglected 
the  slightest  detail  of  his  toilet.  He  approached 
the  Professor  with  a  sympathetic  look  on  his  fox- 
like  face. 

"  Vernon,"  he  said,  "  I'm  awfully  sorry  to  hear 
of  your  loss." 

"  You've  heard  of  it  already?  " 

"Why,  yes;  the  servants  are  full  of  it.  It  —  it 
seems  to  be  in  the  very  air." 

"  I'm  at  my  wits'  ends,"  confessed  the  diplomat. 


The  Gold-Headed  Pencil  101 

The  Count  smiled  in  a  deprecatory  way. 

"  There's  no  reason  to  feel  that  way  with  two 
such  able  investigators  at  your  service. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

The  dark-skinned  one  pointed  his  feminine  finger 
in  the  direction  of  Barnes  and  Prescott.  The  de- 
tective smiled  uneasily. 

"  Why  do  you  think  I  can  help  the  Professor?  " 

"  Because,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  know  the  good 
work  you  did  for  the  State  Department  in  the  mat- 
ter of  the  Red  Flame.  It  was  a  mystery  to  every- 
body —  but  you." 

Barnes  laughed  but  he  could  not  deny  the  soft  im- 
peachment. 

"  And,  Captain  Prescott,"  continued  the  Count, 
"  you  can  help  because  there  isn't  a  better  operative 
in  the  Intelligence  Bureau  of  the  War  Department 
than  your  own  modest  self." 

Barnes  and  Prescott  met  outside  the  door  a  mo- 
ment later,  and,  instinctively,  they  said,  one  to  the 
other : 

"  That  man  knows  too  much." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HOPE   BARS   THE   WAY 

THREE  hours  after  the  discovery  of  the  loss  of 
the  green  wallet,  Vance  Prescott  and  Bromley 
Barnes  came  to  two  remarkable  conclusions.  The 
first  was  that  the  robbery  —  if  there  had  been  a 
robbery  —  was  committed  from  the  inside,  and  the 
second  that  the  stolen  property  had  not  left  the 
house.  In  reaching  this  judgment  the  soldier  was 
guided  by  instinct  and  the  investigator  by  experi- 
ence. A  careful  examination  of  the  footprints  out- 
side the  house  satisfied  Barnes  that  while  there  had 
been  intruders  in  the  grounds  they  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  breaking  into  the  house.  Indeed,  the 
poisoning  of  the  dog  was  proof-positive  that  they 
contemplated  robbery.  But  for  some  unaccount- 
able reason  they  had  not  carried  their  intentions  into 
effect. 

The  frightened  servants  had  been  cross-examined 
until  they  were  in  a  state  of  bewilderment  bordering 
on  panic.  In  a  much  more  polite,  but  still  just  as 
effective  a  manner,  the  guests  had  been  required  to 

102 


Hope  Bars  the  Way  103 

give  an  account  of  themselves.  Tommy  Warner, 
who  was  regarded  as  the  man  with  the  least  sensi- 
bilities, had  taken  it  harder  than  any  of  the  others, 
while  Count  Castro,  who  might  easily  have  been 
open  to  suspicion,  had  taken  the  lead  in  offering 
every  possible  aid  to  the  searchers.  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  rubbed  his  beak  of  a  nose,  and  said 
that,  while  the  business  was  rather  humiliating,  the 
feelings  of  the  guests  should  not  be  regarded  when 
the  interests  of  such  a  splendid  host  were  at  stake. 
The  fact  that  the  Count  had  revealed  Barnes  as  a 
detective,  while  annoying  at  first,  had  its  advantages, 
because  it  enabled  the  veteran  to  take  the  onus  of 
subjecting  the  guests  to  a  personal  examination. 

"  Vernon  is  helpless  in  this  matter,"  he  declared 
with  a  great  deal  of  ostentation,  "  and  whether  he 
consented  or  not  it  would  be  my  duty  to  put  you 
ladies  and  gentlemen  through  this  ordeal.  It  is  not 
a  matter  that  is  personal  to  him.  Higher  and  more 
important  interests  are  at  stake." 

After  the  ground  had  been  quite  thoroughly  cov- 
ered Barnes  recalled  Barker,  the  trusted  butler.  He 
was  a  smooth-faced,  bald-headed  man,  the  type  of 
the  perfect  servant.  His  genuine  interest  in  every- 
thing which  related  to  Professor  Vernon  was  obvi- 
ous. 

"  Barker,"  said  the  detective,  "  do  you  think  any 


104  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

one  left  the  house  last  night  —  or  at  least  attempted 
to  leave  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "  for  the  reason 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  away  from  here. 
The  only  train  that  came  in  last  night  was  the  one 
that  brought  you  here,  and  there  will  be  none  this 
morning  until  ten  o'clock.  Since  the  war  the  ser- 
vice has  been  cut  down.  The  only  other  way  of 
leaving  would  be  in  the  machine,  and  I  am  positive 
that  has  not  been  out  of  the  garage." 

"  Did  you  have  any  other  guests  after  I  arrived  ?  " 
"  None,  sir.  All  of  those  who  are  here  now  were 
here  when  you  arrived.  We  had  the  Russian  Am- 
bassador, but  he  left  early  yesterday  morning.  His 
trunk  is  still  in  the  room  he  occupied,  and  he  left 
instructions  with  me  to  see  that  it  was  shipped  to 
him  not  later  than  this  afternoon." 

"  Why  is  it  that  he  did  not  take  it  when  he  left?  " 
"  There  was  some  laundry,  and  I  undertook  to 
look  after  that  for  him.  He  left  the  key  of  the 
trunk  with  me.  It  will  be  ready  shortly  and  then 
I  am  to  place  it  in  the  trunk  and  lock  and  ship  it  for 
him." 

"  Then  the  trunk  was  left  open  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir,  for  that  purpose." 
"  That  is  all  for  the  present,  Barker." 
"  All  right,  sir.     Thank  you,  sir." 


Hope  Bars  the  Way  105 

"  Barker,"  said  Barnes,  as  an  afterthought,  "  I'm 
sure  you  are  devoted  to  Professor  Vernon." 

The  eyes  of  the  faithful  one  dimmed  with 
tears. 

"  There  isn't  anything  in  the  world  I  wouldn't 
do  for  him,  sir." 

"  I  thought  so.  You  are  aware  that  he  has  met 
with  a  loss.  Now,  I  want  you  to  keep  your  ears 
and  eyes  open,  and  if  anything  occurs  let  me  know 
of  it  at  once." 

"  I'll  do  that,  sir.     You  may  depend  upon  me." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  Vance 
Prescott  was  preparing  to  have  a  talk  with  Hope 
Vernon.  He  saw  her  in  the  living-room  drumming 
idly  upon  the  piano,  and  he  made  his  way  in  that  di- 
rection, slowly  and  thoughtfully.  He  felt  in  his 
pocket  to  make  sure  that  the  gold-headed  pencil  was 
there.  She  looked  up  as  he  entered. 

"  Hope !  "  called  Vance  softly. 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  an  expressionless  face, 
but  did  not  move.  Her  attitude  was  not  conducive 
to  confidences  but  nevertheless  he  persisted. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  for  a  moment  ?  "  he  asked 
pleadingly. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  queried  in  turn,  but  without 
the  smile  that  would  have  taken  the  coldness  from 
her  tone. 


106  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"I  —  I  didn't  want  to  force  myself  on  you,"  he 
apologized. 

"If  there  is  anything  you  have  to  say  to  me  I 
see  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't  say  it,"  she  re- 
peated with  maddening  monotony. 

He  stood  before  her  in  silence  for  a  while  and  she 
left  the  piano  stool  and  took  a  seat  on  a  leather  dav- 
enport. She  gathered  her  skirt  with  a  movement 
which  plainly  said  that  he  might  sit  beside  her  if 
he  so  desired.  He  smilingly  accepted  the  invitation. 
But  if  he  imagined  that  she  was  in  a  melting  mood, 
he  was  soon  undeceived.  The  Hope  Vernon  he  saw 
before  him  was  a  different  person  from  the  one  he 
imagined  he  knew  so  well.  The  girl  he  loved  was 
a  girl  of  moods.  One  of  the  things  he  recalled 
was  the  smile  that  began  in  her  eyes  and  gradually 
extended  over  all  of  her  bright  countenance.  It 
was  on  such  occasions  that  you  became  aware  of 
the  two  alluring  dimples  and  a  desire  to  kiss  the 
rosy  cheeks.  Again,  one  of  the  things  he  recalled 
was  the  frown  that  gathered  so  ominously  on  the 
white  brow,  and  the  fire  that  blazed  in  the  blue 
eyes.  He  knew  how  to  treat  either  of  these  moods. 
But  now  she  neither  smiled  nor  frowned.  It  was 
disconcerting. 

"  I  hope  I  haven't  offended  you  in  any  way,"  he 
began  rather  lamely,  "  because  if  I  have,  I'm  sorry." 


Hope  Bars  the  Way  107 

"  Surely  you  haven't  come  to  tell  me  that,"  she 
said  rebukingly. 

He  noticed  then  that  her  little  nose  was  a  very  ag- 
gressive nose.  She  tilted  her  chin  and  thrust  her 
head  forward  in  a  formidable  way  that  he  didn't 
like  at  all.  But  the  gracefulness  with  which  her 
head  was  poised  on  the  shapely  neck  was  adorable. 
He  thought  of  all  this  while  he  listened  to  her  words 
in  a  sub-conscious  sort  of  way. 

"  Well,  no,"  he  stammered,  "  not  exactly.  You 
see  —  " 

"  I  thought  not,"  she  interrupted,  without  a 
change  of  countenance,  "  and  now  if  you'll  come 
to  the  point  I'll  thank  you." 

He  stared  at  her  in  surprise.  Surely  this  could 
not  be  his  Hope  Vernon.  She  could  laugh  with  de- 
light or  blaze  with  anger,  but  he  had  never  known 
her  to  assume  this  cold  indifference. 

"Have  you  lost  anything?"  he  asked  presently. 

"  Not  that  I  can  think  of  at  this  moment,"  she 
answered. 

He  pretended  to  move  but  managed  to  retain  his 
seat. 

"  Then  I  must  ask  your  pardon.  I  found  some- 
thing on  the  floor  this  morning,  and  I  imagined  it 
might  belong  to  you." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  sharply. 


108  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

Instead  of  answering,  he  put  his  hand  in  his 
pocket  and  pulled  out  the  article  he  had  picked  up 
in  the  study. 

"  Ah,  that  pencil ! "  she  exclaimed,  losing  her 
composure  for  the  instant. 

"  Ah!  then  it  does  belong  to  you?  "  he  exclaimed 
triumphantly. 

She  looked  at  him  fixedly.  She  knew  he  had 
seen  it  in  her  hair,  and  she  resented  his  pretended 
surprise. 

"  Where  did  you  find  it  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Next  to  the  walnut  cabinet  in  your  father's 
study." 

Her  face  flushed  at  this  statement  and  her  ag- 
gressive formality  seemed  to  die  away.  She 
reached  for  the  pencil.  Even  in  that  slight  move- 
ment he  noted  the  whiteness  of  her  arms  and  the 
gracefulness  of  her  action.  She  arose  from  the 
davenport. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  icily,  "  there  is  nothing 
more,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  cried  impulsively,  "  except  that  you  and 
I  are  not  going  to  quarrel  over  nothing." 

The  little  nose  was  thrust  forward  with  that  ag- 
gressiveness he  disliked,  the  chin  tilted  upwards, 
and  she  moved  away  with  the  air  of  an  offended 
Duchess. 


Hope  Bars  the  Way  109 

Fortunately  for  the  peace  of  mind  of  Vance 
Prescott  he  found  immediate  distraction  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Bromley  Barnes.  The  detective  had  located 
a  servant  who  imagined  he  had  seen  some  one  going 
into  one  of  the  bedrooms  while  the  company  was  at 
dinner  on  the  previous  night.  He  could  not  remem- 
ber which  apartment,  but  was  sure  that  it  was  one 
of  four  rooms  on  the  west  side  of  the  second  floor. 
Barnes  had  gone  to  the  trouble  of  ascertaining  the 
names  of  the  occupants  of  these  particular  rooms. 
The  first  one  belonged  to  Gilbert  Vernon,  the  second 
to  Vance  himself,  the  third  to  Count  Castro  and  the 
last  one  had  been  used  by  the  Russian  Ambassador 
during  his  stay. 

"  Watch  for  favorable  opportunity  and  search 
every  one  of  those  rooms,"  whispered  the  detective. 

Vance  made  a  wry  face. 

"  The  Professor  agrees  to  this,"  snapped  Barnes. 
"  You  are  doing  him  a  service.  If  you  have  any 
fool  scruples,  you'd  better  go  home." 

"  All  right,"  said  Prescott  weakly,  "  I'll  do  as 
you  say." 

He  took  a  seat  in  an  arm  chair  in  the  living-room 
and,  hiding  himself  behind  a  book,  waited  for  his 
opportunity.  While  he  sat  there  unnoticed,  he  was 
the  witness  to  two  curious  incidents.  Hope,  seeing 
Gilbert  Vernon,  signaled  to  him  to  step  into  the 


110  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

dining-room,  which  immediately  joined  the  apart- 
ment they  were  in.  It  must  have  been  five  min- 
utes when  they  came  out,  and  from  their  manner  it 
looked  as  if  they  had  been  quarreling.  The  girl's 
face  was  as  white  as  marble  and  her  head  seemed  to 
droop.  Vance  felt  uncomfortably  like  an  eaves- 
dropper, but  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  retire 
gracefully. 

Hope  sank  into  a  chair  with  her  head  in  her 
hands.  Young  Vernon,  with  a  sullen  look  on  his 
pasty  face,  walked  out  into  the  hall.  Here  he  came 
face  to  face  with  Count  Castro.  The  two  ex- 
changed a  few  words  and  Gilbert  pointed  to  his 
cousin.  The  Count  nodded  significantly  and  en- 
tered the  living-room.  He  spoke  quietly  to  Hope 
and  she  arose  and  they  walked  to  the  window  over- 
looking the  grounds,  and  engaged  in  earnest  con- 
versation. 

Vance  fidgeted  uneasily  in  his  chair.  What  in  the 
world  could  these  two  have  in  common?  To  him 
they  were  as  opposite  as  the  poles.  One  he  loved 
devotedly,  the  other  he  disliked  cordially.  Could  it 
be  possible  that  she  cared  for  the  man?  He  flung 
the  notion  from  him  as  an  absurdity.  But  the 
next  moment  he  found  himself  nursing  the  thought. 
More  than  one  American  girl  had  found  herself  un- 
able to  resist  the  lure  of  a  title.  Why  should  Hope 


Hope  Bars  the  Way  111 

Vernon  be  different  from  the  others?  Simply  be- 
cause she  was  Hope  Vernon,  he  assured  himself. 
But  the  mental  debate  left  him  uneasy  and  dissatis- 
fied. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  talk  between  the  girl  and  the 
man  was  becoming  more  animated.  Even  from 
where  he  sat  he  could  see  that  her  face  was  flushed 
and  her  eyes  sparkling.  He  groaned.  The  thought 
of  her  indifference  to  him  presented  such  a  contrast 
to  her  present  behavior.  Why  was  it  that  this  South 
American  could  arouse  her  emotions  so  easily? 
Their  voices  were  slightly  raised  and  he  caught  a 
sentence. 

"  But  it  is  a  matter  of  love  —  love  and  affection, 
my  dear  Miss  Hope  —  and  these  are  the  things  that 
rule  the  world." 

He  could  see  the  girl's  head  slightly  droop  at  these 
words.  Count  Castro,  feeling  that  he  had  gained 
an  advantage,  was  following  it  with  his  persuasive 
eloquence.  He  spread  out  his  hands  expressively. 
Vance  could  not  help  comparing  him  with  a  saga- 
cious and  remorseless  animal.  At  one  moment  he 
reminded  him  of  a  fox,  and  at  another  of  a  wolf, 
capable  of  destroying  all  that  came  in  his  path.  He 
was  undeniably  handsome,  with  his  tall  figure,  his 
erectness  and  the  agility  of  his  movements.  The 
little,  sharp,  beady  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  girl 


112  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

as  if  he  would  mesmerize  her.  He  talked  and  ges- 
ticulated without  intermission.  But  with  it  all  he 
maintained  a  certain  dignity,  and  the  manners  of  a 
gentleman.  The  violet  in  his  buttonhole  —  the 
everlasting  violet  —  indicated  a  fastidious,  if  not 
poetic  nature,  and  at  intervals  he  reached  for  his 
chin,  as  if  to  stroke  a  beard,  and  then  seemed  sur- 
prised at  not  finding  it. 

Vance  Prescott  was  compelled  to  make  the  humili- 
ating confession  to  himself  —  he  was  jealous  of 
Count  Castro. 

Presently  Hope  bowed  her  head  as  though  she 
were  convinced  by  the  arguments  that  had  been 
presented  to  her  and  left  the  room.  The  Count, 
with  the  air  of  a  victor,  leisurely  lighted  a  cigarette 
and  strolled  out  into  the  grounds. 

The  young  soldier  remained  seated  in  the  arm 
chair  for  a  long  while.  His  thoughts  were  playing 
hide  and  seek,  and  the  scene  he  had  witnessed 
seemed  to  deprive  him  of  the  power  of  initiative. 
He  had  opened  the  book  at  random  and  now  it 
slipped  from  his  unresisting  ringers  and  fell  to  the 
floor.  The  noise  roused  him  to  action.  He  re- 
membered the  promise  he  had  made  to  Barnes. 
Every  one  seemed  to  be  out  of  the  house  and  op- 
portunity called  him  into  action.  He  rose  languidly 
and  slowly  made  his  way  to  the  second  floor.  The 


Hope  Bars  the  Way  113 

four  bedrooms  in  a  row  stood  invitingly  before 
him.  The  doors  were  closed  but  he  knew  they  were 
not  locked.  The  servants,  in  all  probability,  had 
not  finished  adjusting  them  for  the  day.  He  tried 
the  knob  of  the  door  of  Gilbert  Vernon's  room.  It 
yielded  to  his  touch  and  he  entered. 

He  turned  the  key  in  the  lock  and,  as  he  did  so, 
felt  a  sense  of  sheepishness  that  was  far  from  com- 
fortable. Indeed,  his  first  sensation  was  that  of  a 
man  engaged  in  a  criminal  act.  But  when  he 
thought  of  the  green  wallet  and  of  the  plight  of 
Professor  Vernon,  he  threw  his  scruples  to  the  winds 
and  got  down  to  business.  His  duties  as  a  member 
of  the  Intelligence  Bureau  of  the  War  Department 
had  taught  him  a  thing  or  two.  He  had  been  on  the 
hunt  of  more  than  one  traitor,  and  was  amazed  at 
the  facility  with  which  he  could  search  a  room.  He 
worked  rapidly  and  with  precision,  and  when  he  fin- 
ished was  certain  he  had  not  overlooked  anything. 

The  green  wallet  was  not  there! 

There  were  a  number  of  papers  in  the  bureau 
drawers,  but  none  that  remotely  resembled  a  con- 
tract. One  of  them  was  an  essay  which  Gilbert 
Vernon  had  evidently  written  concerning  the  un- 
equal division  of  wealth  in  the  United  States.  On 
the  table  was  an  English  translation  of  one  of  the 
works  of  Karl  Marx,  and  another  book  by  Hynd- 


114  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

man  on  "  Socialism  in  England."  It  was  easy  to 
guess  the  trend  of  Gilbert  Vernon's  thoughts,  and 
not  difficult  to  understand  his  morose  views  on  the 
existing  order  of  things.  Very  quietly  the  unwill- 
ing investigator  unlocked  the  door,  and  stepped  out 
into  the  hallway.  His  own  room  came  next,  but, 
smilingly,  he  passed  that  and  paused  in  front  of  the 
apartment  which  had  been  occupied  by  Count  Castro. 
He  reached  for  the  knob  and  was  about  to  turn  it 
when  he  was  halted  by  a  scornful  voice. 

"  Stay  out  of  that  room !  "  it  cried. 

He  turned  and  faced  the  blazing  eyes  and  quiver- 
ing lips  of  Hope  Vernon. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  stammered,  taken  at  a 
disadvantage,  "I  —  I  did  not  know  you  were  here." 

She  laughed  in  a  bitter,  mirthless  way. 

"  Certainly  not  —  or  you  would  not  be  skulking 
out  of  my  cousin's  room." 

He  reddened  through  the  tan  of  his  face. 

"I  —  I  was  in  there  looking  for  something,"  he 
ventured. 

"  You  failed  to  find  what  you  wanted,"  she  said, 
ironically,  "  and  now  you  are  going  to  go  into  the 
room  of  Count  Castro." 

"  Yes,"  was  the  eager  response,  as  though  he  felt 
that  she  was  going  to  be  his  ally,  "  yes,  that's  it." 

She  folded  her  arms  defiantly,  and  the  tender  blue 


Hope  Bars  the  Way  115 

eyes  began  to  show  signs  of  turbulence.  She 
stamped  a  shapely  foot  on  the  floor. 

"  Well,  you're  not  going  to  do  anything  of  the 
kind  —  not  while  Count  Castro  is  away  from  his 
room.  If  you  go  in  there  it  will  be  with  his  permis- 
sion." 

He  looked  at  her  in  a  puzzled  sort  of  way,  and 
when  he  spoke  it  was  in  the  indulgent  tone  one  would 
use  to  a  child. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  don't  understand.  I  felt  the 
way  you  did  at  first,  but  necessity  knows  no  law,  and 
it  is  necessary  for  me  to  go  into  that  room  for  a 
few  minutes." 

"  Nothing  contemptible  is  necessary !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, with  barely  suppressed  anger,  "  and  I  tell 
you  that  you  are  not  going  to  enter  the  room." 

He  looked  at  her  with  something  like  admiration. 
She  held  herself  so  majestically,  and  there  was  so 
much  force  in  her  expression.  But,  on  his  part, 
there  was  just  as  much  determination.  His  jaws 
were  firmly  set,  even  while  the  laughter  lurked  in  his 
eyes. 

"  I'm  going  in,"  he  said  quietly,  "  with  your  per- 
mission." 

As  he  spoke  he  made  a  movement  to  enter  the 
door.  But  she  had  anticipated  this,  and  with  a  sud- 
den motion  placed  her  slim  body  between  Vance  and 


116  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

the  room.  He  made  a  move  to  go  around  her,  and 
she  placed  her  back  against  the  door,  and  flung  out 
her  arms  to  make  the  barrier  complete. 

"  If  you  dare  to  touch  me,"  she  cried,  "  I'll  call  for 
the  servants!  " 

Almost  unconsciously  he  had  raised  his  hands, 
but  he  recovered  himself  immediately,  and  the  next 
moment  his  arms  dropped  helplessly  to  his  side. 
He  gave  a  sigh  and  stepped  back.  At  the  same 
moment  she  relaxed.  The  fire  died  from  her  eyes, 
and  suddenly  she  looked  very  pale  and  weak.  He 
bowed  to  her  profoundly,  and  as  he  turned  to  leave 
he  exclaimed,  with  his  first  show  of  bitterness : 

"  You  have  won,  Miss  Vernon,  but  I  do  not  envy 
you  your  victory." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   COUNT   TAKES   A   STROLL 

As  Vance  Prescott  made  his  way  slowly  down  the 
stairs  he  met  the  Count  ascending.  He  was  smil- 
ing and  as  debonair  as  usual.  The  impulse  of  the 
young  soldier  was  to  take  him  by  the  throat,  and  to 
strangle  the  truth  from  his  lips.  But  he  suppressed 
this  mad  desire,  and  by  a  great  effort  compelled 
himself  to  look  pleasant.  The  Spanish- American 
glanced  at  him  sympathetically. 

"  It  must  be  very  trying,"  he  observed,  "  for  an 
active  man  like  yourself  to  be  boxed  up  in  a  coun- 
try house." 

"  Oh,  no,"  retorted  Vance,  "  I  find  a  great  deal 
here  to  hold  my  interest." 

The  Count  continued  on  his  way  while  Prescott 
went  on  down  to  the  living-room.  He  had  often 
admired  this  attractive  room,  but  now  it  seemed  cold 
and  lifeless.  The  incident  of  the  morning  had 
changed  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  house  for 
him.  He  laughed  sarcastically  as  he  remembered 
that  he  had  come  to  Idlewild  for  pleasure  and  re- 

117 


118  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

laxation.  Instead  of  that  his  nerves  had  been  kept 
on  edge  all  the  time.  No  one  was  normal.  They 
were  wandering  about  like  lost  souls.  He  had  an 
overwhelming  desire  to  pack  up  and  leave  the  place. 
But  he  dismissed  this  as  a  cowardly  attempt  to 
avoid  responsibility.  Besides,  it  was  understood 
that  no  one  was  to  be  permitted  to  leave  the  house 
until  Barnes  had  given  his  consent.  To  hurry  away, 
without  explanation  of  any  kind,  would  look  like  a 
confession  of  guilt,  and  goodness  knows  he  was 
guiltless. 

He  tried  to  locate  Barnes,  but  he  was  nowhere  in 
sight.  A  few  words  with  that  sane  person  might 
relieve  his  mind.  While  he  stood  there  trying  to  col- 
lect his  thoughts  the  faithful  Barker  passed  through 
the  room. 

"  Hello,  Barker,"  he  called,  "  where  is  Professor 
Vernon?  " 

"  The  Professor  is  in  his  room,"  was  the  grave 
reply,  "  and  I  don't  think  he  is  feeling  very  well." 

Vance  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  could  easily 
believe  that  the  master  of  the  house  was  not  feel- 
ing very  well.  And  if  Francis  Vernon  knew  what 
had  taken  place  only  a  few  minutes  before  he  would 
feel  infinitely  worse.  The  thought  of  it  was  mad- 
dening. If  he  only  had  some  one  to  whom  he  might 
talk.  But  that  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  He,  of 


The  Count  Takes  a  Stroll  119 

all  men  in  the  world,  could  not  cast  the  finger  of  sus- 
picion at  Hope  Vernon. 

He  sank  into  a  deep  chair  in  a  recess  near  one 
of  the  windows  overlooking  the  grounds.  The  place 
had  seemed  like  a  perfect  Eden  when  he  first  ar- 
rived, but  now  it  took  on  an  appearance  of  bleak- 
ness and  melancholy.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  had  not 
changed  at  all.  It  was  simply  a  reflection  of  his 
state  of  mind.  While  he  sat  there  he  noticed  a 
rustic  individual  making  his  way  along  the  pathway 
leading  to  the  entrance  of  the  house.  Count  Castro 
had  come  from  his  room  and  was  on  the  veranda. 
Through  the  half  open  window  Vance  heard  the 
fellow  speak  to  him. 

"  Be  you  the  Count?  "  he  asked  with  a  sheepish 
grin. 

The  South  American  answered  in  the  affirmative, 
and  the  countryman  thrust  a  bit  of  paper  into  his 
hand.  Vance  stood  up  to  get  a  better  view,  and  saw 
the  diplomat  toss  the  man  a  coin.  He  opened  the 
paper,  read  it  and  frowned.  For  some  moments 
he  stood  there  in  a  state  of  indecision.  Then  he 
lit  a  cigarette,  buttoned  his  coat,  straightened  his 
shoulders  and  walked  to  the  rear  of  the  house.  The 
curiosity  of  the  young  officer  was  fully  roused.  He 
hurried  into  the  hallway,  picked  up  his  hat,  and  fol- 
lowed at  a  safe  distance.  The  grounds  of  Idle- 


120  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

wild  were  extensive.  The  southern  part  was  heavily 
wooded.  The  Count  made  his  way  along  the  road 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was  familiar  with  the 
surroundings.  This  was  not  surprising,  because  he 
had  been  the  guest  of  Francis  Vernon  on  several  oc- 
casions. 

But  what  was  he  doing  in  this  unfrequented  part 
of  the  place  by  himself?  It  was  scarcely  a  morn- 
ing stroll,  because  he  walked  with  the  stride  of  a 
man  who  has  a  definite  object  in  view.  There  was 
no  doubt  but  that  he  had  received  an  unexpected 
message,  and  it  was  quite  evident  that  the  bit  of 
paper  which  had  been  handed  him  was  the  cause 
of  this  ramble  into  the  depths  of  the  Vernon  estate. 
He  was  not  in  the  least  agitated,  but  he  was  clearly 
annoyed.  What  could  it  mean?  Was  it  possible 
that  he  had  the  green  wallet?  The  very  thought 
caused  the  blood  to  tingle  through  the  body  of  the 
young  army  officer.  Vance  Prescott  scratched  his 
head  in  perplexity.  If  he  could  only  feel  sure  that 
Castro  had  the  precious  document  on  his  person  he 
would  have  attacked  him  then  and  there.  But  he 
knew  that  he  could  not  afford  to  make  a  mistake. 
If  he  did  it  would  only  make  a  bad  situation  worse. 
The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  keep  his  wits  about  him, 
and  to  learn  by  strategy  what  he  could  not  ascertain 
in  any  otker  way. 


The  Count  Takes  a  Stroll          121 

The  Count  kept  steadily  forward  until  he  came 
to  a  small  apple  orchard,  facing  a  public  road. 
There,  resting  against  the  fence,  was  an  unenviable 
specimen  of  humanity.  He  was  ragged  and  dirty 
and  was  evidently  lost  to  all  shame  and  decency. 
He  was  brown-skinned,  had  a  broken  nose  and  the 
thick  lips  of  a  negro.  There  was  something  famil- 
iar about  the  man.  Vance  puzzled  his  brain  to  re- 
member where  he  had  seen  him  before.  It  came  to 
him  in  a  flash. 

It  was  the  murderous  Mexican  who  attacked  him 
on  the  road  to  Idlewild. 

He  could  have  shouted  aloud  at  the  discovery. 
But  he  had  sense  enough  to  keep  quiet.  His  imme- 
diate business  was  to  discover  the  relationship  be- 
tween the  Count  and  the  ruffian.  Just  at  that  mo- 
ment Castro  turned  to  look  about  him.  In  the  nick 
of  time  Vance  managed  to  hide  behind  a  big  tree. 
His  position  was  all  that  could  be  desired  for  pur- 
poses of  observation.  He  could  see  without  being 
seen  and  he  was  near  enough  to  catch  an  occasional 
word. 

The  moment  the  ragged  one  caught  sight  of  the 
diplomat  he  began  to  show  signs  of  fear  and  ser- 
vility. It  was  evident  that  the  tie  between  them  was 
that  of  master  and  man.  Castro  addressed  him  in 
an  undertone,  but  with  evident  sternness. 


122  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  I  no  could  keep  it,"  whined  the  other  in  defense 
of  himself. 

The  two  talked  for  some  time,  and  all  the  while 
the  man  with  the  face  of  a  murderer  maintained 
his  cringing  attitude.  Finally  they  separated,  but 
before  they  did  Castro  handed  the  derelict  several 
bank  notes.  Bowing  and  scraping  he  passed  down 
the  road.  At  the  same  instant  the  Count,  whistling 
in  the  most  cheerful  manner,  started  for  the  house. 
Vance,  behind  the  tree,  was  in  a  quandary.  His  im- 
pulse was  to  come  forth  and  call  the  Count  to  task. 
His  reason  told  him  to  discover  the  identity  of  the 
murderous-looking  visitor.  It  did  not  take  him 
long  to  decide. 

He  came  from  his  place  of  hiding  and  followed  the 
Mexican  down  the  long  road. 

His  talk  with  Count  Castro  seemed  to  have  had  a 
buoyant  effect  upon  the  outcast  for  he  walked  with  a 
light  step,  and  the  air  of  one  who  is  on  the  verge  of 
happiness.  Vance  managed  to  keep  him  in  sight,  but 
did  not  seem  to  be  able  to  overtake  him.  He  might 
easily  have  done  so  by  running,  but  he  was  not  dis- 
posed to  attract  the  fellow's  attention,  and  possibly 
give  him  the  chance  to  escape.  So  they  kept  on  for 
a  mile  or  more,  the  pursuer  and  the  pursued.  At 
one  time  a  sharp  turn  in  the  road  hid  the  Mexican 
from  view,  and  Vance's  heart  palpitated  at  the. 


The  Count  Takes  a  Stroll  123 

thought  of  losing  his  man.  But  in  a  few  minutes 
the  long  white  ribbon  of  macadamized  highway  re- 
appeared and  his  quarry  was  in  sight  again.  Pres- 
cott  was  beginning  to  wonder  how  long  the  thing 
would  last  when  his  attention  was  attracted  by  the 
swinging  sign  of  an  old-fashioned  country  inn. 
On  it  was  painted  the  crude  representation  of  a 
noble  animal,  and  beneath  this  were  the  words: 
"  The  Black  Horse  Hotel."  Vance  guessed,  and 
rightly,  that  the  Mexican  would  stop  at  this  place 
for  liquid  refreshments. 

Indeed,  the  moment  he  came  opposite  the  Inn, 
the  fellow  turned  and  entered  the  place.  Prescott 
followed  at  a  reasonable  distance.  The  floor  was 
sanded,  and  tables  were  spread  about  the  room. 
The  Mexican  flung  himself  in  a  chair,  and  loudly 
called  for  whiskey.  While  he  was  being  served 
Vance  had  an  opportunity  of  thinking  out  his  mode 
of  procedure.  He  noticed  an  enclosed  telephone  in 
a  far  corner  of  the  room.  He  made  his  way  to  the 
booth,  and  entering  closed  the  door.  He  called 
Idlewild,  and  securing  the  connection,  asked  to  have 
Bromley  Barnes  called  to  the  wire.  As  he  held  the 
receiver  to  his  ear  he  could  look  through  the  glass 
window  and  see  the  murderous-looking  one  sprawl- 
ing in  front  of  the  table,  gulping  down  his  liquor. 
At  that  moment  the  detective  came  to  the  telephone, 


124  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

and  Vance,  in  quick,  nervous  fashion,  related  all  that 
occurred. 

"  I'm  at  the  Black  Horse  Inn  now,"  he  stated, 
"  and  if  you'll  come  down  I'll  keep  the  fellow  in 
sight,  and  we  can  decide  what  is  best  to  be  done." 

That  settled,  the  young  officer  seated  himself  at 
an  adjoining  table  and  ordered  some  sherry  as  a 
pretext  for  remaining  in  the  Inn.  The  Mexican 
called  for  sandwiches  and  devoured  them  with  the 
air  of  a  man  who  is  half- famished.  He  drank  re- 
peatedly, and  when  the  time  came  to  settle  for  the 
score  threw  down  a  ten  dollar  bill  with  an  air  of  tri- 
umph. Fortunately  he  did  not  look  in  the  direction 
of  the  young  man.  Vance  kept  a  newspaper  spread 
in  front  of  his  face  to  avoid  premature  discovery. 
He  was  sure  the  man  knew  him.  The  attempted 
assault  on  the  way  to  Idlewild  was  a  proof  of  that. 
If  the  fellow  should  recognize  him  now  it  would 
precipitate  a  fight  which  might  spoil  everything. 
The  wait  was  very  trying,  but  finally  the  door 
opened,  and  Vance  beheld  the  beaming  countenance 
of  Bromley  Barnes.  The  detective  nodded  to  him, 
and  then  went  directly  to  the  landlord  who  was  be- 
hind the  bar. 

"  Higgins,"  he  said  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  ad- 
dressing an  old  friend,  "  I  want  you  to  give  us  the 
use  of  a  room  for  a  few  minutes." 


The  Count  Takes  a  Stroll  125 

"  Why,  surely,  Mr.  Barnes,"  was  the  prompt  re- 
ply; "  it  is  certainly  a  cure  for  sore  eyes  to  see  you 
again." 

An  apartment  on  the  first  floor  was  indicated,  and 
then  Barnes  walked  over  to  Prescott.  He  had  al- 
ready noted  the  Mexican  who  was  beginning  to 
show  the  effects  of  his  repeated  libations. 

11  We'll  get  down  to  business  at  once,"  he  said  with 
a  smile,  "  and  have  a  heart  to  heart  talk  with  our 
ugly  looking  friend." 

He  made  his  way  to  the  table  where  the  bedrag- 
gled one  sat  and  gave  him  a  hearty  slap  on  the 
shoulder.  The  fellow  jumped  to  his  feet  with  a  look 
of  fright  on  his  unlovely  countenance. 

"  Don't  be  scared,"  laughed  the  detective,  "  just 
step  into  that  room.  I  want  to  have  a  little  talk 
with  you." 

The  Mexican  was  dazed,  but  he  showed  signs  of 
fight.  He  stared  at  Barnes  for  a  moment,  and  then 
looking  around  caught  the  eyes  of  Vance  Prescott. 
That  awakened  him  to  a  realization  of  the  impend- 
ing danger.  He  glanced  toward  the  door,  but  the 
prospect  of  escape  was  not  encouraging.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  indicated  that  he  was 
ready  to  do  as  he  was  told.  He  walked  between  the 
two  men  into  the  apartment.  Barnes  closed  and 
locked  the  door.  That,  in  itself,  was  ominous. 


126  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

The  detective  pointed  to  a  chair,  and  addressed  him- 
self to  the  fellow  with  an  air  of  authority  that  was 
not  to  be  mistaken : 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said. 

The  man  did  as  he  was  told,  sullenly  enough,  but 
with  the  air  of  one  who  obeys  a  superior.  Barnes 
stood  over  him  in  a  threatening  attitude. 

"  Now  tell  me  what  you  were  doing  with  Cas- 
tro?" 

The  Mexican  hunched  his  shoulders  and  curled 
his  thick  lips. 

"  Me  no  know  what  you  talk  about." 

"  Yes,  you  do  know.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what 
he  gave  you." 

The  swarthy-faced  one  laughed. 

"  He  gave  me  what  you  call  mon  —  the  mon  to 
buy  the  whiskey." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  Sure  that's  all  —  what  else  you  think  ?  " 

Barnes  turned  to  Prescott. 

"  Cover  him  with  your  gun  while  I  go  through 
him !  " 

Vance  produced  a  pistol  and  pointed  the  shining 
muzzle  at  the  fellow. 

"  Stand  up  there  against  the  wall  and  don't  move 
if  you  value  your  life." 

The  Mexican  did  as  he  was  told,  and  the  detective 


The  Count  Takes  a  Stroll  127 

went  through  his  pockets  with  the  rapidity  and  thor- 
oughness that  comes  from  long  training.  The 
search  was  fruitless.  Aside  from  the  money  and 
a  bag  of  tobacco  his  work  yielded  nothing.  Vance 
lowered  the  pistol  and  the  victim  dropped  his  hands. 
But  he  was  in  an  ugly  mood  by  this  time. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  asked  Barnes. 

"  Fernando  Werta,"  he  replied  doggedly. 

"  What  are  you  doing  in  this  country?  " 

"  Find  out,  you  Yankee  swine !  "  he  shouted,  los- 
ing his  temper. 

"  Be  careful  —  you're  in  the  United  States  now," 
cautioned  the  detective. 

He  snapped  his  fingers  defiantly. 

"  That  for  your  United  States.  I  despise  you 
and  your  country.  I  spit  on  your  flag.  You  hear 
me?" 

"  Yes,  very  distinctly.  Let  me  see  your  wrists, 
won't  you  ?  " 

Unsuspectingly  he  put  out  his  hands  and  at  the 
same  moment  the  detective  slipped  a  pair  of  hand- 
cuffs on  him.  As  they  gave  an  ominous  click 
Barnes  said  to  Vance : 

"  It  just  fits  in  with  our  plans.  We'll  arrest  him 
under  the  Espionage  Act  and  hold  him  until  further 
notice." 

The  Mexican  made  an  ineffective  struggle  to  get 


128  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

away.  But  the  odds  were  against  him  and  he  re- 
alized it. 

"  What  you  do  with  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  If  you  behave  yourself,"  grinned  Barnes,  "  we'll 
let  you  have  a  nice  cell  in  the  police  station  in 
Washington." 

He  scowled  but  presently  the  dark  eyes  looked 
up  in  a  dog-like  appeal. 

"  You  tell  Count  Castro  where  I  am  —  you  sure 
tell  him?" 

Barnes  nodded. 

"Yes,  we'll  tell  him —  Vance,  don't  forget 
that." 

Five  minutes  later  the  detective  was  on  his  way 
to  Washington  with  his  prisoner  while  Captain  Pres- 
cott  was  returning  to  Idlewild.  When  he  reached 
the  place  he  found  the  Spanish-American  pacing  the 
porch.  He  smiled  grimly  as  he  thought  of  the  sur- 
prise he  had  in  store  for  the  debonair  diplomat. 
Castro  was  puffing  at  a  cigarette.  He  gave  a  cyni- 
cal smile  as  Prescott  approached. 

"  You've  been  playing  truant,"  he  cried. 

"  I've  been  away  on  important  business,"  replied 
Vance. 

"  Ah ! "  commented  the  Count,  raising  his  eye- 
brows in  polite  surprise. 

"  Did  you   ever  hear  of  Fernando  Werta  —  a 


129 


Mexican?"  asked  Prescott,  watching  the  other 
closely. 

But  Castro  exhibited  no  emotion  whatever.  He 
tapped  the  ashes  from  the  end  of  his  cigarette  and 
said  coolly : 

"  Yes  —  what  about  him  ?  " 

"  We've  just  arrested  him !  "  announced  Vance 
with  a  suddenness  which  was  intended  to  take  the 
other  off  his  guard. 

But  it  didn't.  He  merely  smiled  and  looked  at 
Prescott  in  a  way  that  bade  him  proceed. 

"  We  know  that  you  have  been  in  communication 
with  the  man,"  cried  the  young  man  angrily,  "  and 
we  know  that  you  have  given  him  money." 

"Of  course,"  replied  Castro,  blowing  smoke 
through  his  nose,  "  but  why  didn't  you  come  out 
openly  instead  of  hiding  behind  the  tree.  You 
wasted  a  lot  of  valuable  time." 

"  Count  Castro !  "  exclaimed  Vance  with  great 
heat,  "  that  man  has  been  prowling  around  the  house 
for  the  purpose  of  theft." 

"I  know  it,"  was  the  amazing  reply;  "he  came 
around  here  to  steal  the  copies  of  the  oil  contract." 

'  Yet  you  talk  to  him,"  gasped  the  young  man. 

"  Most  certainly.  The  stupid  fellow  sends  me  a 
note.  He  forgets  ,that  it  is  in  my  interest  to  protect 
that  contract." 


130  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  But  you  went  to  him?  " 

"  Assuredly.  I  told  him  to  quit  the  neighbor- 
hood because  he  was  on  a  fool's  errand.  I  told  him 
the  document  had  already  been  stolen." 

Prescott  reached  for  a  post  of  the  veranda.  He 
actually  felt  the  need  of  support.  The  audacity  of 
the  man  was  unbelievable.  He  fired  a  parting  shot. 

"  Werta's  in  a  cell  by  this  time  —  being  cross- 
examined." 

Castro  smiled  and  calmly  tossed  his  cigarette 
away. 

"  That's  where  he  should  have  been  long  ago. 
He's  a  dangerous  man  to  be  at  large." 

Vance  turned  on  his  heel  and  entered  the  house. 
For  the  present,  at  least,  he  felt  that  he  was  no  match 
for  Count  Castro. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   COUNT    CHUCKLES 

THE  house  at  Idlewild  was  of  colonial  design,  but 
Professor  Vernon  had  not  hesitated  to  satisfy  his 
personal  whims  in  its  construction,  even  at  the  risk 
of  offending  artistic  conventions.  On  the  outside 
of  his  study  he  had  built  a  little  porticoed  veranda. 
It  stood  about  six  feet  above  the  ground,  and  con- 
tained an  easy  chair  where  the  owner  was  wont  to 
sit  and  read  his  paper  or  smoke  his  cigar  in  his  mom- 
ents of  relaxation.  Vance  made  his  way  to  this  re- 
treat after  his  interview  with  the  Count.  He  wanted 
to  be  alone  where  he  could  think  of  the  events  of 
the  morning  with  some  degree  of  coherency.  The 
door  of  the  study  was  open,  and  he  walked  in.  He 
had  learned  enough  about  the  ways  at  Idlewild  to 
understand  that  guests  were  expected  to  make  them- 
selves at  home,  and  that  the  little  study  was  quite  as 
much  at  their  disposal  as  the  living-room,  or  the 
grounds.  He  shook  his  head  at  the  reflection.  It 
was  this  open-handed  hospitality  of  Francis  Ver- 
non that  had  made  it  easy  for  the  thief  who  had 

131 


132  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

stolen  the  green  wallet.  Musing  thus,  he  opened 
the  windowed  doorway  which  led  to  the  veranda, 
and  walked  out.  He  sat  down  in  the  easy  chair,  and 
pulled  a  cigar  from  his  pocket.  But  before  he  had 
time  to  light  it  his  attention  was  attracted  by  voices 
from  the  little  study.  Some  persons  were  coming 
into  the  room. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  heard  the  voice  of  Count  Cas- 
tro saying;  "  there  isn't  a  soul  here,  we  can  talk  with- 
out being  disturbed." 

The  first  impulse  of  Vance  Prescott  was  to  arise 
and  walk  into  the  room,  but  some  strange  power 
over  which  he  seemed  to  have  no  control  kept  him 
glued  to  his  seat.  There  came  the  scraping  sound 
of  chairs  being  dragged  within  a  few  feet  of  where 
he  was  sitting.  Then  he  heard  a  voice,  husky  with 
emotion,  saying: 

"  Shut  that  door  —  you  don't  want  the  world  to 
be  taken  into  your  confidence,  do  you  ?  " 

The  next  instant  Vance  heard  the  door  between 
himself  and  the  others  slammed,  and  the  key  turned. 
He  was  locked  out.  He  stood  up  but  some  heavy 
drapery  on  the  glass  part  of  the  door  effectively 
shut  off  his  sight.  He  could  hear  the  voices,  but 
he  could  not  see  the  speakers.  That  one  was  the 
Count  he  was  morally  certain.  The  identity  of  the 
other  was  a  mystery.  He  was  a  prisoner  on  the 


The  Count  Chuckles  133 

miniature  veranda.  He  could  do  one  of  three 
things.  He  could  rap  on  the  door  and  ask  that  it 
be  unlocked ;  he  could  climb  down  into  the  grounds, 
with  some  loss  of  dignity,  or  he  could  remain  where 
he  was  and  let  events  take  their  course. 

He  decided  to  remain  and  let  things  take  their 
course. 

"  Well,"  said  the  voice  of  the  Spanish- American, 
"  now  we  are  here  and  all  alone,  what  have  you  got 
to  say  for  yourself?  " 

"  That's  why  I  came  to  you,"  retorted  the  other, 
in  a  querulous  voice ;  "  what  have  you  got  to  say, 
and  what  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

The  Count  laughed  in  a  low,  sarcastic  manner. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you're  putting  the  whole 
enterprise  up  to  me,  but  we'll  not  quarrel  over  that. 
The  question  before  us  is  plain  enough.  We  have 
the  important  documents,  and  we  must  decide  what 
we  are  going  to  do  with  them." 

Vance  Prescott,  on  the  veranda,  was  tense  with 
interest.  His  impulse  was  to  break  the  door  down 
and  confront  the  guilty  pair.  But  prudence  bade 
him  be  quiet  and  learn  more.  He  crouched  in  the 
chair  and  listened  intently. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  nervous  and  husky  voice,  "  but 
why  didn't  you  take  the  papers  in  the  first  place, 
when  you  all  but  had  them  in  your  hands  ?  " 


134  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  My  dear  friend,"  was  the  soothing  reply, 
"haven't  I  told  you  already  that  it  was  one  thing 
to  get  possession  of  the  papers,  and  another  to  get 
them  out  of  this  house.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do 
that  we  have  two  Government  detectives  in  the 
house.  They  are  watching  us  like  hawks.  Every 
move  we  make  is  noted.  You  can't  go  to  the  front 
gate,  and  I  can't  light  a  cigarette  without  its  being 
known  to  these  two  bloodhounds  of  the  law.  To 
have  hidden  the  contract  in  any  of  the  rooms  would 
have  been  fatal  to  our  plans.  To  have  concealed  it 
about  our  persons  would  have  been  just  as  bad.  I 
told  you  that  we  would  be  subjected  to  the  indignity 
of  a  search.  I  told  you  that  our  rooms  would  be 
ransacked.  Both  of  these  things  have  happened. 
Haven't  they?  I  appeal  to  you  as  a  witness. 
Haven't  I  predicted  exactly  what  has  come 
about?" 

"  Yes,"  sullenly  assented  the  other,  "  and  I 
wouldn't  have  believed  that  such  a  thing  would  have 
been  tolerated  in  the  home  of  Francis  Vernon." 

Again  the  Count  chuckled  in  that  sinister  way 
which  seemed  to  be  a  part  of  his  character. 

"  We  won't  go  into  the  ethics  of  the-  thing,"  he 
said,  "  it  is  enough  to  know  that  the  dear  Professor 
feels  that  he  must  leave  no  stones  unturned  to  re- 
cover the  contract.  We,  on  our  part,  must  leave 


The  Count  Chuckles  135 

no  stone  unturned  to  prevent  him  from  recovering 
it." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  the  agitated  voice,  "  but  come 
to  the  point." 

"  The  point,  my  dear  friend,"  pursued  the  Count, 
"  lies  in  the  fact  that  we  have  outwitted  these  two  de- 
tectives. It  makes  me  laugh.  Think  of  the  situ- 
ation. Two  of  the  cleverest  representatives  of  your 
great  Government  permit  these  valuable  papers  to 
be  taken  from  under  their  very  noses." 

"  But  Prescott  has  a  suspicion  —  " 

"  Suspicion !  what  does  that  amount  to  ?  We'll 
let  him  have  his  suspicions  but  we'll  keep  the  con- 
tract. Prescott  and  Barnes  think  they  have  wonder- 
ful heads  on  their  shoulders.  They  have  —  won- 
derful wooden  heads." 

Vance  squirmed  -in  his  seat  on  the  veranda.  In- 
voluntarily he  clenched  his  fist  and  shook  it  in  the 
direction  of  the  voices.  The  movement  he  made 
caused  his  chair  to  squeak.  The  sound  must  have 
been  heard  in  the  study  because  the  unknown  one  ex- 
claimed : 

"  What's  that !  I  thought  I  heard  some  one  com- 
ing into  the  room." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  was  the  confident  reply, 
"you're  letting  your 'imagination  get  the  better  of 
your  sense  of  hearing.  We're  absolutely  alone." 


136  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  Well,  well !     What  were  you  saying  ?  " 

Vance  heard  the  striking  of  a  match.  Castro  had 
evidently  paused  to  light  a  cigarette  before  replying. 

"  I  was  saying,"  he  continued  with  deliberation, 
"  that  we  have  these  two  sharps  buffaloed.  I  believe 
that  is  one  of  the  expressive  words  in  your  very  ex- 
pressive language.  Prescott  has  arrested  one  of 
the  Mexicans,  but  we  have  nothing  to  fear  from  that 
source.  He  saw  me  talking  to  the  fellow  and  taxed 
me  with  it.  But  I  bluffed  him  to  a  standstill. 
Bluffed,  I  understand,  is  another  favorite  word  as 
applied  to  your  great  American  game  of  poker." 

"  I  wish  you'd  stop  chattering  and  get  down  to 
business,"  wailed  the  other. 

"  You're  not  very  polite,"  reproved  the  Count 
gently;  "  well,  if  it  will  relieve  you,  I  may  say  that 
we  have  gotten  down  to  business.  There  was  but 
one  way  of  getting  that  contract  out  of  this  house. 
That  way  was  by  slipping  it  in  the  trunk  of  the  Rus- 
sian Ambassador.  Has  it  been  placed  there  in  ac- 
cordance with  my  instructions  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  unknown  one  with  some- 
thing like  a  groan,  "  it  has  been  placed  in  the  trunk." 

"  Very  good,"  was  the  jubilant  response,  "  the 
rest  is  simplicity  itself.  The  faithful  but  stupid 
Barker  will  lock  the  trunk  and  mail  the  key  to  his 
Excellency." 


The  Count  Chuckles  137 

"  Well?  "  queried  the  other. 

"  My  dear  man,"  laughed  the  Count,  "  have  you 
no  imagination?  The  Russian  diplomat  will  not  get 
this  trunk  —  at  least  not  until  we  have  removed 
the  green  wallet.  All  of  the  details  have  been  ar- 
ranged. I'll  have  a  man  at  the  railroad  station  with 
a  forged  order  for  the  trunk.  He  will  bring  it  to 
the  place  I  have  designated.  We  will  abstract  the 
property  we  need  —  with  the  assistance  of  a  clever 
locksmith  —  and  then  the  trunk  will  be  closed  and 
forwarded  to  his  Excellency.  The  innocent  and 
unsuspecting  gentleman  will  be  perfectly  happy.  I 
will  be  happy.  You  will  be  happy.  Professor  Ver- 
non  will  have  a  few  bad  hours.  There  will  be  a 
nine  days  wonder,  but  we  will  have  the  consciousness 
of  having  accomplished  a  great  work." 

"  You  —  you  don't  anticipate  any  hitch?  " 

"  Not  the  slightest.  I  have  carried  through  some 
big  things  in  my  time.  I  do  not  know  the  meaning 
of  the  word  fail." 

There  was  some  more  talk  in  an  undertone,  and 
then  Vance  Prescott  heard  the  scraping  sound  of 
chairs  and  knew  that  the  men  were  leaving  the 
room.  He  rose  in  his  excitement.  He  put  his  hand 
to  his  forehead.  He  felt  the  cold  sweat  on  his 
brow.  The  revelations  he. .had  heard  made  every 
nerve  in  his  body  tingle.  What  should  he  do  ?  He 


138  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

tried  the  door  leading  into  the  room.  It  was  se- 
curely fastened.  It  was  too  substantial  to  break 
down.  There  was  one  other  thing  to  do.  It  was 
to  jump  from  the  veranda,  rush  around  to  the  front 
of  the  house  and  confront  the  conspirators  before 
they  had  time  to  escape.  He  made  a  leap  to  the 
ground,  ran  around  the  grounds,  and  reached  the 
front  door,  panting  for  breath.  He  stumbled  up 
the  steps  and  hastened  through  the  living  room  to 
the  little  study.  One  glance  was  sufficient  to  tell 
the  story. 

It  was  empty  —  the  men  had  gone ! 

Vance  pulled  himself  together  with  a  great  effort. 
He  realized  that  he  must  act  and  act  quickly.  The 
time  for  temporizing  had  passed.  He  must  find 
Professor  Vernon  and  expose  the  perfidy  of  Count 
Castro.  After  that  it  would  take  but  a  minute  to 
open  the  Russian  Ambassador's  trunk  and  recover 
the  green  wallet.  He  looked  about  for  the  faith- 
ful Barker  but  he  was  not  in  sight.  He  went  to 
the  electric  call  bell  on  the  side  of  the  wall  and 
pressed  it  vigorously.  He  could  hear  the  ringing 
distinctly  but  there  was  no  response.  While 
Vance  stood  there  waiting,  almost  mad  with  sus- 
pense, he  was  startled  by  a  cry  of  distress 
from  the  second  floor.  He  looked  up  and 
beheld  May  Ward  running  down  the  stairway, 


The  Count  Chuckles  139 

her  face  blanched  and  a  look  of  terror  in  her 
eyes. 

"Oh,  Captain  Prescott!  "  she  cried,  "  I'm  so  glad 
you're  here." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"I  —  I  don't  know.  Something's  happened  to 
Professor  Vernon.  Please  come  upstairs  at 
once!  " 

Without  another  word  she  turned  to  go  to  the 
upper  floor  again.  Vance  followed  her,  two  steps 
at  a  time.  They  found  the  master  of  the  house 
clinging  to  the  back  of  a  chair  in  the  hallway, 
his  eyes  rolling  and  his  face  grayish.  Prescott 
lifted  him  up  but  he  was  unable  to  stand  on  his 
feet. 

"  What  seems  to  be  the  trouble?  "  asked  Vance. 

He  looked  at  the  young  man  pathetically  and 
shook  his  head.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  lost 
the  power  of  speech. 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  a  stroke,"  said  poor  little  Miss 
Ward,  tearfully.  "  I've  seen  cases  in  the  hospital 
while  I  was  in  training  and  they  always  look  that 
way." 

Prescott  nodded  his  head.  Her  diagnosis  seemed 
to  be  correct.  \ 

"  Telephone  for  a  doctor,"  he  said. 

"  Barker  is  doing  that  already,"  Miss  Ward  re- 


140  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

plied ;  "  if  we  could  only  get  him  in  bed  he'd  be  more 
comfortable." 

His  answer  to  this  appeal  was  prompt  and  to  the 
point.  He  lifted  the  stricken  man  bodily  onto  his 
stalwart  young  shoulders  and  carried  him  to  his  bed- 
room. He  laid  him  down  tenderly,  and,  as  he  did 
so,  Professor  Vernon  thanked  him  with  a  look  of 
gratitude. 

"  Now  we'll  have  to  get  Miss  Vernon  as  quickly 
as  possible,"  he  said  briskly. 

He  hurried  into  the  hall  and  half  way  downstairs 
he  met  Hope  Vernon. 

"  Please  hurry,"  he  said  gently;  "  I'm  afraid  your 
'father  is  quite  ill." 

She  stared  at  him  dazedly  and  hastened  on  her 
way  without  saying  a  word.  He  continued  down 
to  the  first  floor.  No  one  was  in  the  living-room. 
There  was  an  air  of  desolation  about  the  place  that 
chilled  him  to  the  heart.  The  silence  was  oppres- 
sive. It  was  as  though  some  one  had  died.  When 
he  thought  of  the  stricken  man  upstairs  he  felt  a 
choking  sensation  in  the  throat.  He  loved  Francis 
Vernon  almost  as  a  father,  and  the  thought  of  his 
condition  gave  him  a  personal  sense  of  grief. 

He  roused  himself  with  a  start.  This  was  no 
time  for  repining.  He  must  find  Barker.  Where 
could  the  man  be?  Just  at  that  moment  the  faith- 


The  Count  Chuckles  141 

ful  one  came  in  view,  his  face  depicting  the  sorrow 
he  felt. 

"  Hello,  Barker !  "  cried  Vance.  "  Did  you  get 
the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  servant,  his  voice  trem- 
bling. "  I  reached  him  at  once  and  he's  on  his  way 
over.  He  should  be  here  in  five  or  ten  minutes." 

Vance  felt  an  immediate  sense  of  relief.  He 
knew  that  Dr.  Shaw  was  one  of  the  best  practi- 
tioners in  the  neighborhood.  With  Hope  by  her 
father's  side  and  the  doctor  hastening  as  fast  as 
his  machine  would  bring  him,  he  felt  that  all  had 
been  done  that  could  be  done.  That  matter  settled, 
his  mind  reverted  to  the  green  wallet  and  the  Am- 
bassador's trunk. 

"  By  the  way,  Barker,"  he  exclaimed,  "  where  is 
Count  Castro?  " 

"  He's  gone,  sir." 

"Gone!" 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  was  going  out  while  I  was  on  the 
way  to  the  telephone.  Said  he  had  a  most  impor- 
tant message  and  had  to  leave  on  the  morning  train." 

"  The  cold-hearted  scoundrel !  "  ejaculated  the 
young  soldier. 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  when 
he  thought  of  the  green  wallet. 

"  By  the  way,  Barker,  the  trunk  of  the  Russian 


142  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

Ambassador  was  left  in  his  room  when  he  left  the 
day  before  yesterday." 

The  face  of  the  faithful  one  went  a  shade  whiter. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Please  take  me  to  it  at  once.  This  is  a  matter 
of  importance.  I'll  explain  later." 

Barker  moistened  his  dry  lips  with  the  tip  of  his 
tongue. 

"  I'm  sorry,  sir,"  he  began,  "  I  — " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  shouted  Prescott. 

"  I'm  sorry,  sir,"  repeated  the  servant,  "  but  it 
was  sent  to  the  station  about  ten  minutes  ago." 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  AMBASSADOR'S  TRUNK 

VANCE  PRESCOTT  stood  there  like  a  man  stunned. 
The  thought  of  being  outwitted  by  the  clever  and 
unscrupulous  Spanish-American  was  not  to  be  tol- 
erated. And  yet  what  was  he  to  do  under  the  cir- 
cumstances ?  A  dozen  thoughts  flashed  through  his 
brain  at  once.  The  faithful  Barker  had  gone  up- 
stairs in  the  hope  of  serving  his  stricken  master. 
It  was  impossible  to  cross-examine  him  at  the  mo- 
ment, and  even  if  he  had  the  opportunity  it  might 
result  in  naught.  He  could  not  appeal  to  Francis 
Vernon.  The  unfortunate  man  was  helpless,  and 
unable  to  speak.  No  one  else  was  in  sight,  and 
yet  the  emergency  called  for  immediate  action.  At 
that  critical  time  the  telephone  bell  began  to  tinkle. 
Prescott  was  not  in  the  mood  to  answer,  but  it  per- 
sisted so  much  that,  almost  involuntarily,  he  walked 
over,  and  picked  up  the  receiver. 

"  Hello,"  he  called ;  "  what  do  you  want  ?  " 
"  I'd  like  to  speak  to  Vance  Prescott,"  came  a 
voice,  not  very  distinctly. 


144  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  This  is  he,"  responded  the  young  man.  "  Who 
is  talking?  " 

"  Bromley  Barnes,"  came  in  the  old  familiar  tones. 

Vance  could  have  shouted  with  joy.  The  man 
of  all  men  he  most  wanted  to  consult  was  within 
reach. 

"  Go  ahead,"  he  cried ;  "  tell  me  what  you  have  to 
say." 

"  I'm  only  reporting  progress,"  was  the  cheerful 
answer.  "  I'm  at  Chevy  Chase.  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  fall  in  with  a  Deputy  United  States  Mar- 
shal, and  I  turned  my  Mexican  friend  over  to  his 
tender  mercies.  He's  promised  to  see  that  he  is 
given  an  uncomfortable  cell  in  one  of  the  Washing- 
ton police  station  houses.  In  the  meantime  I'd  like 
to  know  whether  to  return  to  Idlewild  or  to  go  on 
to  Washington." 

"  To  Washington,  by  all  means,"  answered 
Vance ;  "  things  have  been  happening  since  I  left 
you,  and  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  you 
should  be  at  the  station  in  Washington  when  the 
afternoon  train  arrives  from  Idlewild." 

Then  in  a  terse,  clear  language,  he  told  the  story 
of  all  that  had  occurred  in  the  house.  He  re- 
peated what  he  had  overheard  on  the  veranda,  and 
told  how  the  faithful  Barker  had  sent  the  Ambassa- 
dor's trunk  to  its  destination. 


The  Ambassador's  Trunk  145 

"  Now,"  he  continued,  "  I'm  sure  that  Count  Cas- 
tro is  on  the  train,  and  that  the  trunk  is  in  the  bag- 
gage car.  I  count  on  you  to  be  at  the  station  to 
grab  both  the  Count  and  the  trunk.  Get  authority 
for  this  if  you  think  it  is  necessary,  but,  in  any  event, 
take  care  that  you  get  'em,  authority  or  no  authority. 
I  don't  know  how  you  came  to  call  me  up  at  this 
particular  moment,  but  I  think  it's  nothing  less  than 
Providential.  I'm  going  to  try  and  make  the  train. 
I  imagine  I've  got  one  chance  in  a  million,  but  I'm 
going  to  make  a  break  for  it  just  the  same.  I'll  see 
you  at  the  station  in  Washington,  either  when 
that  train  rolls  in,  or  later.  Good-bye,  Bromley, 
and  good  luck  to  you !  " 

Vance  consulted  a  time  table  as  soon  as  he  hung 
the  receiver  up,  and  glanced  at  his  watch.  He 
found  there  was  just  twenty-one  minutes  before  the 
leaving  time  of  the  afternoon  train.  He  recalled 
that  Barker  had  once  told  him  that  a  fast  automobile 
could  make  the  station  in  twenty  minutes.  He 
smiled  grimly  to  himself.  He  hadn't  the  faintest 
notion  where  he  was  going  to  get  a  fast  automobile, 
or  any  kind  of  an  automobile.  Nevertheless,  he 
hurried  to  his  room,  and  hastily  gathered  a  few  of 
his  personal  articles.  On  his  way  down  the  hall, 
he  met  Miss  Ward : 

"  How  is  the  Professor?  "  he  asked  nervously. 


146  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  He  seems  to  be  responding  to  home  treatment, 
but  he  can't  speak  yet,"  said  the  little  woman. 

"  Good ! "  shouted  Vance,  and  shot  off  with  the 
air  of  a  wild  man. 

The  gentle  Red  Cross  nurse  stood  there  gazing 
after  him,  and  wondering  if  he  were  glad  that 
Vernon  was  improving  or  pleased  that  he  was  not 
yet  able  to  speak.  The  puzzle  was  too  much  for  her 
comprehension,  and  she  slowly  returned  to  the  sick 
room  to  wait  for  the  doctor. 

By  this  time  Vance  had  reached  the  garage. 
Within  its  walls  he  found  a  touring  car.  He  gave 
it  a  quick  examination  and  found  that  it  was  in 
good  condition  and  well  supplied  with  gasoline.  He 
jumped  in,  pulled  the  lever,  and  steered  the  machine 
out  into  the  grounds.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  make  a  dash  for  the  station.  Just  what  he  would 
do  with  the  car  was  an  after  consideration.  As  he 
reached  the  open,  he  noticed  Tommy  Warner  saun- 
tering along  the  roadway. 

"Hello,  Tommy!"  he  shouted.  "You're  just 
the  very  man  I  want  to  see." 

But  the  usually  cordial  one  was  not  in  a  melting 
humor.  Indeed,  he  had  the  manner  of  one  who  is 
offended  or  distrustful.  He  was  walking  away, 
after  a  curt  nod,  when  Vance  called  to  him  for  the 
second  time : 


The  Ambassador's  Trunk  147 

"  For  God's  sake,  get  in  here.  This  is  a  matter 
of  life  and  death." 

"  I  thought  they'd  sent  for  the  doctor." 

"It's  not  that,"  protested  Vance.  "The  Pro- 
fessor is  coming  around,  I'm  told,  and  the  doctor 
will  be  here  any  minute.  But  I  want  you  to  go  to 
the  station  with  me.  Come,  don't  stand  there  star- 
ing like  an  idiot." 

Perhaps  he  was  relenting ;  perhaps  it  was  the  vio- 
lence with  which  he  was  greeted,  but,  in  any  event, 
Tommy  Warner  found  himself  in  the  touring  car, 
bumping  up  and  down,  and  being  threatened  with 
sudden  death.  It  was  some  moments  before  he 
could  get  his  breath,  but  in  one  of  the  intervals  when 
they  were  running  smoothly  he  managed  to  ejacu- 
late: 

"  What  in  the  devil  are  you  trying  to  do  with 
me?" 

"  I'm  not  trying  to  do  anything  with  you,  Tommy 
dear !  "  cheerfully  retorted  the  young  soldier.  "  I'm 
simply  trying  to  get  to  the  station  before  that  after- 
noon train  starts  for  Washington." 

"  What's  that  to  me?  I  haven't  the  slightest  de- 
sire to  go  to  Washington.  What  do  you  mean  by 
kidnaping  me  in  this  fashion?  " 

Vance  laughed  —  a  wild,  hysterical  laugh. 

"You  dear  old  blockhead,  you're  not  worth  kid- 


148  The  Ambassador's  Trupk 

naping.  I  had  to  catch  this  train.  To  do  that  L 
had  to  borrow  this  machine.  If  I  make  the  train 
I'll  have  to  send  the  machine  back  to  Idlewild.  I 
brought  you  along  for  that  purpose.  You're  a 
second-rate  driver,  but  I  guess  you  can  guide  this 
gas  buggy  back  to  the  garage  all  right." 

Warner  leaned  back  against  the  cushions  with  a 
gasp  of  astonishment. 

'"You've  got  the  nerve  of  a  brass  monkey,"  he 
said  finally;  "I've  got  a  notion  to  leave  you  right 
here." 

Vance  made  a  curious  sound  —  something  be- 
tween a  chuckle  and  a  groan. 

"  You  don't  dare  to  move,  unless  you  want  to 
break  that  precious  neck  of  yours.  You're  going  to 
the  station  with  me,  and  if  I  catch  that  train  you're 
going  to  run  this  car  back  to  Idlewild.  And  after 
that  you'll  make  my  excuses  to  Miss  Vernon,  and 
say  that  I  was  called  away  unexpectedly  —  just  like 
Count  Castro." 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  in  which  these 
words  were  said  that  grated  on  the  sensibilities  of 
the  usually  affable  Mr.  Warner.  He  looked  up  in 
a  sulky  way  and  uttered  four  words: 

"The  hell  you  say!" 

"  I  do  say,  and  I  haven't  any  time  to  stand  on 


The  Ambassador's  Trunk  149 

ceremony.  You  heard  exactly  what  I  wanted,  and 
you  can  do  it  or  not,  just  as  you  please." 

The  car  struck  a  hole  in  the  road  at  this  point 
and  sent  the  two  men  bouncing  in  the  air.  When 
they  struck  the  seats  again  they  were  speechless  for 
a  moment.  The  newspaper  man  was  regarding  his 
companion  closely. 

"  You  don't  look  as  if  you'd  been  drinking,"  he 
said  reflectively. 

"  Haven't  had  a  drop,"  cried  Vance,  making  a 
sharp  turn  to  avoid  an  obstacle  in  the  path  of  the 
car. 

"  But  you  do  act  as  if  you'd  gone  crazy.  Will 
you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  the  meaning  o£  this 
business?  " 

"  Can't  tell  you  a  thing  now,"  was  the  curt  re- 
sponse ;  "  this  isn't  a  matter  for  newspaper  publica- 
tion." 

"  Oh,  you  be  blowed ! "  retorted  Warner. 
"  Who  wants  anything  for  the  newspapers  ? 
What  do  you  mean  by  treating  me  in  this  silly  fash- 
ion?" 

"  If  you  will  kindly  shut  up,"  exclaimed  the 
driver,  "  I  may  be  able  to  make  that  train.  I 
can't  drive  and  chatter  with  you  at  the  same 
time." 

Warner  sank  back  in  the  cushions  with  a  look 


150  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

of    intense    disgust    on    his    good-natured     face. 

"  I'm  sure  I've  struck  an  insane  asylum.  It's 
been  that  way  ever  since  I  reached  Idlewild.  Not 
a  soul  seems  normal.  The  head  of  the  house  walks 
around  like  the  chief  mourner  at  a  funeral.  His 
nephew  feeds  us  on  a  lot  of  Socialistic  rubbish. 
Hope  Vernon  refuses  to  smile,  and,  finally,  you 
come  along  like  the  chief  lunatic  and  steal  this 
motor  car  and  expect  me  to  act  as  your  accomplice. 
It's  too  much  for  me." 

Vance,  with  his  hands  on  the  steering  wheel, 
looked  sideways  at  his  companion. 

"  Still  raving,  Tommy,"  he  remarked  with  a  tol- 
erant smile. 

"Raving?"  echoed  the  cherubic  one,  losing  his 
temper.  "  Listen  to  the  madman  asking  me  if  I'm 
raving!  " 

Prescott  took  one  hand  off  the  wheel  long  enough 
to  look  at  his  watch. 

"  Only  ten  minutes  left  and  I  haven't  covered  half 
the  distance." 

Prescott  pulled  the  lever  as  he  spoke  and  the  car 
shot  ahead  with  a  jerk  that  threw  Tommy  Warner 
off  the  seat.  He  started  to  protest  but  the  speed 
at  which  they  were  going  made  conversation  dif- 
ficult. He  shouted  in  the  ear  of  his  friend  but 
Prescott  only  smiled. 


The  Ambassador's  Trunk  151 

"  Stop  spluttering,  Tommy,"  he  called,  "  or  you 
may  put  the  car  out  of  commission." 

"  If  this  keeps  up  much  longer,"  threatened  the 
journalist,  "  I'll  put  you  out  of  commission,  and 
that's  no  joke." 

The  only  answer  was  a  laugh  and  a  still  further 
increase  in  speed.  Tommy  Warner  was  frankly 
scared.  He  lost  all  of  his  characteristics.  He 
was  no  longer  cherubic;  he  ceased  to  smile  and  he 
forgot  to  twirl  his  eye-glasses.  Instead  he  clutched 
the  side  of  the  car  in  a  death-like  grip  and  closed 
his  eyes. 

Vance  Prescott  had  suddenly  become  reckless. 
His  eyes  glittered  and  there  was  a  devil-may-care 
air  about  him  that  changed  his  whole  personality  — 
outwardly  he  was  the  same  broad-shouldered,  clean- 
faced,  strong-limbed  young  fellow,  but  behind  all 
of  this  there  was  a  desperation  and  a  disregard  of 
consequence  that  boded  ill  for  any  one  who  might 
stand  in  his  way.  Warner,  opening  his  eyes  for  a 
fleeting  moment,  saw  this,  and  it  filled  him  with  a 
wholesome  awe.  He  put  himself  in  a  receptive 
mood.  He  would  no  more  dispute  anything  Pres- 
cott might  tell  him  than  he  would  contradict  a  pa- 
tient in  the  violent  ward  of  an  insane  asylum. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  Vance  suddenly  cried  to  him. 
"  Did  you  hear  anything?  " 


152  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

The  suddenness  of  the  query  startled  Warner. 
But  he  was  able  to  answer. 

"  Why,  yes ;  it  sounds  like  the  Washington  train." 

"  I'll  make  that  train  or  smash  the  machine  in 
the  attempt,"  shouted  Vance,  his  brow  wrinkling 
and  a  dogged  expression  coming  around  the  corner 
of  his  mouth.  His  jaws  were  set  and  he  leaned 
forward  like  a  tiger  ready  to  spring  on  its  quarry. 

Warner  laughed  uneasily. 

"  That's  fine,"  he  commented,  "  but  please  don't 
offer  me  up  as  an  innocent  victim  of  your  ambi- 
tion." 

A  sharp  turn  in  the  road  caused  the  automobile 
to  go  careening  as  if  it  would  upset.  But  somehow 
the  wheels  managed  to  reach  solid  ground  again 
and  they  speeded  ahead  with  the  fleetness  of  a  grey- 
hound. They  were  covered  with  dust  and  dirt,  but 
neither  of  them  had  time  to  give  a  thought  to  their 
personal  appearance. 

Presently  they  neared  the  station.  There  were  a 
number  of  small  houses  on  either  side  of  the  road 
and  they  shot  by  them  with  the  velocity  of  the  wind. 
They  could  hear  the  puffing  of  a  locomotive  and  a 
long  trail  of  black  smoke  against  the  background 
of  white  sky  marked  the  progress  toward  the  stop- 
ping place.  Vance  watched  it  with  strained  eyes. 
He  put  on  every  inch  of  power.  The  big  machine 


The  Ambassador's  Trunk  153 

began  to  creak  and  groan  under  the  strain  like  a  ship 
in  a  stormy  sea.  Warner's  face  went  white  beneath 
its  coat  of  dust  and  grime.  What  if  the  car  should 
break  down  ?  The  slightest  twist  in  the  mechanism 
might  send  both  of  them  to  death.  The  same 
thought  came  to  Vance  Prescott  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. He  laughed  shrilly. 

"  It's  a  great  life  if  you  don't  weaken,  Tommy," 
he  cried  harshly. 

He  looked  ahead  and  realized  that  the  train  had 
halted  in  front  of  the  little  station.  The  locomotive 
was  still  puffing  and  throwing  out  clouds  of  black 
smoke.  The  bell  rang  incessantly.  Could  it  be 
possible  that  they  had  been  seen  and  that  a  friendly 
engineer  would  delay  for  the  fraction  of  a  minute? 
The  suspense  was  maddening.  Nearer  and  nearer 
the  car  came  to  its  destination.  Another  twenty 
seconds  and  the  race  would  be  won. 

But  at  the  very  instant  he  made  the  calculation, 
Vance  heard  the  bell  ring  louder  and  then  the  train 
began  slowly  but  surely  to  pull  away  from  the  sta- 
tion. 

"  Stop !  Stop !  "  he  yelled  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 
"I'm  coming!" 

But  his  words  fell  on  empty  air.  If  any  one  on 
the  train  heard  him  they  gave  no  indication  of  the 
fact.  The  grimy- faced  engineer  in  his  cab  was 


154  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

leaning  out  of  the  window,  his  eyes  intent  on  the 
two  streaks  of  shining  metal  ahead  of  him.  The 
conductor  had  lightly  leaped  on  the  last  day  coach 
and  was  proceeding  to  walk  inside  the  car  in  the 
most  matter-of-fact  way. 

Vance  gave  a  groan. 

"  I'll  not  miss  it !  "  he  cried  hysterically. 

They  had  reached  the  approach  to  the  station  by 
this  time.  Two  graveled  roadways  led  up  to  the 
platform.  They  curved  gracefully  in  opposite  di- 
rections. At  that  moment  one  of  them  was  on  a 
line  with  the  engine  and  the  other  marked  the  posi- 
tion of  the  last  car.  The  moving  train  was  gath- 
ering momentum  with  each  passing  second.  Even 
at  that  critical  moment  Vance  did  not  lose  his  pres- 
ence of  mind.  His  impulse  was  to  take  the  nearest 
roadway.  If  he  had  he  would  have  missed  the  train 
beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  But  his  reasoning 
faculties  were  keyed  up  to  the  highest  pitch.  He 
deliberately  steered  the  machine  to  the  farthest 
roadway  and  then  suddenly  halted  it  as  he  reached 
the  platform. 

The  shock  threw  him  against  the  wind  shield  and 
sent  Tommy  Warner  sprawling  on  the  bottom  of 
the  car.  The  last  part  of  the  train  was  passing  the 
end  of  the  station.  With  an  almost  super-human 
effort  the  yo'ung  soldier  recovered  his  balance  and 


The  Ambassador's  Trunk  155 

jumped  to  the  station  platform.  He  made  a  wild 
leap  and  just  managed  to  grab  the  rail  of  the  end 
coach.  For  two  or  three  seconds  he  was  suspended 
in  the  air.  The  train  was  going  at  full  speed. 
Vance  literally  hung  between  life  and  death. 

At  that  supreme  moment  he  pulled  himself  up- 
ward and  fell  half-fainting  on  the  platform  of  the 
car. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A   FRESH    SURPRISE 

VANCE  PRESCOTT  lay  on  the  car  platform  for 
some  moments,  recovering  from  his  exhaustion.  It 
had  been  a  hard  fight  —  but  he  had  won.  The 
thought  refreshed  him  immensely,  and  as  he  lifted 
himself  on  his  elbow  and  looked  backward  he  got  a 
faint  glimpse  of  Tommy  Warner,  standing  up  in 
the  automobile,  and  looking  after  the  departing 
train  with  the  air  of  a  man  petrified  with  surprise. 

The  young  soldier  raised  himself  slowly,  and 
turned  the  knob  of  the  door  of  the  coach.  By  a 
lucky  chance  it  was  unlocked.  He  walked  in  and 
took  the  first  vacant  seat.  It  was  evident  that  no 
one  on  the  train  had  witnessed  his  thrilling  race,  and 
his  equally  thrilling  leap  for  the  last  car.  So  much 
the  better.  He  would  have  no  explanations  to 
make.  He  pulled  out  his  handkerchief  and  tried  to 
make  his  face  presentable.  The  performance  was 
only  partially  successful,  but  by  the  time  the  conduc- 
tor came  around  to  collect  the  tickets  he  had  recov- 
ered his  self-possession,  and  was  able  to  act  in  a 
manner  that  did  not  attract  attention. 

156 


A  Fresh  Surprise  157 

The  train  was  made  up  of  day  coaches,  and  when 
Vance  walked  to  the  forward  end  of  the  car  he 
could  see  into  the  preceding  car  without  any  diffi- 
culty. It  was  nearly  filled,  and  he  glanced  along  the 
seats  in  search  of  a  familiar  face.  The  discovery 
came  to  him  quickly.  On  the  far  part  of  the  car, 
evidently  in  a  deep  reverie,  sat  Count  Castro.  It 
was  clear  that  he  never  expected  Vance  Prescott  on 
the  same  train.  Luckily,  he  was  on  the  side  of  the 
car  from  whence  he  was  not  likely  to  have  seen  the 
mad  race  of  the  automobile.  It  was  to  the  interest 
of  Vance  to  remain  in  the  background.  Where  ig- 
norance was  bliss  it  would  have  been  folly  to  have 
made  the  Count  wise. 

He  returned  to  his  seat,  and  began  to  reflect  upon 
the  series  of  events  which  had  led  to  this  stage  of 
the  situation.  For  a  man  who  had  started  out  to 
obtain  a  little  needed  relaxation  he  had  certainly  led 
a  strenuous  twenty-four  hours.  He  thought  of  his 
aunt  at  East  Orange  and  the  thought  made  him 
smile.  He  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  about  the 
same  hour  on  the  previous  day  that  he  had  left 
Washington  with  the  precious  contract  which  meant 
so  much  to  Francis  Vernon  and  the  United  States 
Government.  He  felt  that  it  was  a  foolish  thing 
to  have  sent  the  document  from  the  safety  of  a  vault 
in  the  State  Department  to  a  country  house,  but  then 


158  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

hindsight  is  always  better  than  foresight,  and  his  re- 
flection was  made  in  the  light  of  a  succession  of  stir- 
ring events  which  had  taken  place  since  he  delivered 
the  papers  into  the  hands  of  the  master  of  Idlewild. 
Barnes  had  told  him  that  the  State  Department  had 
been  entered,  and  who  knows  but  that  they  might 
have  secured  the  valuable  papers  if  they  had  been 
permitted  to  remain  in  Washington. 

It  was  evident  that  Count  Castro  was  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  scheme  to  steal  the  papers  from  the  wal- 
nut cabinet  in  the  little  study  at  Idlewild.  But  how 
had  the  theft  been  accomplished,  and  in  what  way 
were  the  persons  at  the  house  involved?  With  the 
exception  of  little  Miss  Ward  every  one  of  them 
had  acted  in  a  queer,  if  not  a  suspicious  manner. 
He  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  suspect  Tommy 
Warner  of  wrong-doing,  and  yet  how  was  he  to  ac- 
count for  his  midnight  ramble  and  his  altered  de- 
meanor? Even  Francis  Vernon  was  far  from  nor- 
mal in  his  actions  and  his  speech,  but  the  thought  of 
his  having  anything  to  do  with  the  disappearance  of 
the  documents  was  preposterous.  Could  it  be  pos- 
sible that  he  knew  the  thief  and  that  he  had  some  mo- 
tive for  shielding  him?  Gilbert  Vernon,  with  his 
strange  theories  of  life,  might  be  capable  of  taking 
the  papers,  but  would  he  have  the  nerve  to  do  so, 
and,  above  all,  would  he  commit  an  act  that  was  not 


A  Fresh  Surprise  159 

only  unpatriotic,  but  that  might  involve  his  uncle  in 
serious  consequences  ?  And,  finally,  how  was  he  to 
account  for  the  extraordinary  behavior  of  Hope 
Vernon  ? 

As  Vance  looked  out  of  the  car  window  with 
unseeing  eyes,  the  picture  of  the  girl  arose  before 
him  —  the  girl  he  loved  more  than  anything  else  in 
life.  She  had  put  herself  in  antagonism  to  him 
without  any  apparent  cause.  He  could  see  her  now, 
with  her  arms  outstretched  in  front  of  the  door  of 
the  bedroom  of  Count  Castro.  Why  had  she  done 
this?  What  interest  could  she  possibly  have  in 
shielding  such  a  scoundrel?  It  was  too  much  for 
Prescott.  He  shivered,  as  he  gave  it  up  as  an  un- 
solvable  problem. 

Gradually  he  dismissed  the  unpleasant  phase  of  the 
case  from  his  mind.  He  thought  of  Castro  in  the 
other  car  and  of  the  green  wallet  in  the  Ambassa- 
dor's trunk.  In  the  course  of  an  hour  they  would  be 
in  Washington,  and  he  would  have  the  satisfaction 
of  recovering  the  priceless  contract  and  of  handing 
the  chief  conspirator  over  to  the  United  States 
authorities.  He  remembered  that  he  had  the  power 
to  make  an  arrest  and  he  actually  gloated  over  the 
thought  of  personally  taking  the  rascal  into  custody. 

He  leaned  back  against  the  cushions  of  the  seat 
with  a  sense  of  luxurious  ease  he  had  not  felt  in 


160  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

days.  In  a  way  he  regarded  himself  as  responsible 
for  the  Mexican  contract.  It  had  been  stolen  but 
he  would  have  the  glory  of  recovering  it.  All  had 
been  done  that  needed  to  be  done.  He  simply  had  to 
wait  and  possess  himself  in  patience  until  they  had 
covered  the  distance  between  Idlewild  and  Washing- 
ton. All  that  he  had  to  do  was  to  keep  an  eye  on 
Castro  and  see  that  he  did  not  escape.  There  was 
really  no  danger  of  that  with  himself  on  the  train" 
and  Bromley  Barnes  waiting  in  the  station  at  Wash- 
ington. He  closed  his  eyes  and  gently  dozed. 
Once  or  twice  he  roused  himself  and  then  finally  he 
went  sound  asleep. 

Suddenly  he  was  aroused  and  heard  a  crashing 
noise  and  found  himself  being  thrown  violently  on 
the  floor  of  the  car.  There  was  the  breaking  of 
glass,  the  splintering  of  wood,  the  cries  of  women 
and  children  and  the  shouts  of  men.  He  made  an 
effort  to  rise  and  failed.  He  felt  a  curious,  sinking 
sensation  about  the  pit  of  the  stomach.  The  car 
was  still  moving.  It  was  very  queer.  He  seemed 
dizzy  and  incapable  of  thinking.  Then,  like  a  flash, 
the  meaning  of  it  all  came  to  him.  There  had  been 
a  collision  and  the  car  was  reeling  over  on  one  side. 
He  tried  to  grab  the  edge  of  the  seat  and  missed  it. 
His  head  struck  some  hard  substance  and  he  could 
feel  the  warm  blood  oozing  from  his  temple. 


A  Fresh  Surprise  161 

There  was  a  final  crash,  the  air  was  filled  with 
dirt  and  flying  timbers;  the  car  had  toppled  to  the 
ground.  He  gave  a  gasp  and  then  everything  went 
black. 

How  long  he  remained  unconscious  he  could  not 
tell,  but  when  he  opened  his  eyes  he  found  himself 
on  the  ground,  pinned  down  by  a  heavy  weight. 
He  heard  the  rushing  of  many  feet  and  the  shouts 
of  many  voices  and  there  was  a  terrible  pain  in  his 
chest.  From  amidst  the  debris  he  could  get  a 
glimpse  of  the  sky,  serene  and  unflecked.  One  voice 
sounded  above  the  others.  It  was  a  foreman  direct- 
ing the  movements  of  the  wrecking  crew.  Would 
they  ever  reach  him  ?  He  attempted  to  call  and  was 
amazed  at  the  feebleness  of  his  cries.  But  they  were 
coming  nearer  and  nearer  all  the  while.  Presently 
he  heard  a  shout  in  a  voice  of  authority. 

"  There's  some  one  under  there.  Pull  that  stuff 
away  as  quick  as  you  can ! " 

The  next  instant  the  ton  weight  that  held  him 
down  was  removed.  He  lay  quite  still  for  many 
seconds,  but  feeling  an  immense  sense  of  relief. 

"  Get  a  move  on  you,"  shouted  the  voice  again ; 
"  hurry  up  and  pull  him  out!  " 

Willing  hands  caught  him  by  the  shoulders,  and  a 
moment  later  he  was  lying  on  a  green  sward  by 
the  roadside.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  found  him- 


162  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

self  looking  in  the  beaming  face  of  a  six-foot  wreck- 
ing foreman.  The  giant  leaned  over  with  rough 
kindliness. 

"  Get  up,  brother,  and  shake  yourself  —  maybe 
you're  all  right." 

Vance  rose  unsteadily.  But  he  was  able  to  stand 
alone.  Luckily,  no  bones  were  broken.  He  was 
bruised,  but  he  realized  that  he  had  escaped  serious 
injuries. 

"  Yes,"  he  exclaimed,  "  thanks  to  your  prompt- 
ness, I'm  all  right!  " 

But  the  giant  was  off  looking  after  others  who 
needed  him.  Prescott,  rousing  himself,  joined  in 
the  work  of  rescue.  Pie  pulled  ,a  crying  child 
through  the  broken  window  of  ,a  car,  and  a  moment 
later  brought  its  mother  to  a  place  of  safety.  For 
the  better  part  of  an  hour  he  kept  busy  and  at  the 
end  of  that  time  it  was  possible  to  get  an  idea  of  the 
damage  that  had  been  done.  The  wreck  had  been 
caused  by  a  freight  train  which  should  have  been  on 
a  siding.  Providentially  no  one  was  killed.  There 
were  broken  limbs  and  lesser  injuries,  but  the  corps 
of  doctors  who  had  come  upon  the  scene  with  incred- 
ible swiftness  was  giving  needed  attention  to  all. 

Vance  presently  thought  of  Count  Castro.  He 
made  a  hurried  survey  of  all  who  were  in  sight,  but 
the  Count  was  not  among  the  number.  He  sought 


A  Fresh  Surprise  163 

the  aid  of  the  giant  chief  of  the  wrecking  crew: 

"  Farley,"  he  said,  "  have  you  any  idea  what  has 
become  of  Count  Castro?  " 

The  big-shouldered  one  threw  his  chin  in  the 
air. 

"  Dukes  and  Counts  and  common  people  are  all 
alike  when  it  comes  to  a  shake-up  of  this  kind. 
Give  me  a  description  of  your  pal,  and  maybe  I  can 
dope  it  out  for  you." 

"  He  wasn't  my  pal,"  retorted  Vance  hastily,  "  but 
he  was  tall  and  thin  and  as  quick  as  chain  lightning. 
He  was  dark  complexioned,  had  little  eyes  and  a 
nose  like  the  beak  of  an  owl.  He  — " 

"  I  got  you !  "  interrupted  Farley ;  "  we  picked  up 
a  fellow  that  answered  your  description  to  a  T.  He 
was  knocked  senseless  by  falling  timbers." 

"  What's  become  of  him?  " 

"  We  put  him  in  the  ambulance,  with  a  bunch  of 
others,  and  sent  'em  all  over  to  the  Miseracordia 
Hospital  near  Washington." 

"  Was  —  was  he  very  seriously  injured?  " 

"  Naw,"  was  the  quick  reply,  "  just  bumped  on 
the  bean  and  put  on  the  blink  for  a  while.  He'll 
wake  up  with  a  headache,  but  outside  of  that  he 
won't  know  that  anything  ever  happened  to  him." 

The  information  made  Vance  Prescott  thought- 
ful. For  one  thing,  it  told  him  where  he  might 


164  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

seek  the  Spanish- American  if  he  had  the  desire. 
For  another,  it  was  evident  that  he  had  gone  off 
without  the  green  wallet.  Instinctively  he  made  his 
way  in  the  direction  of  the  baggage  car.  He  found 
the  place  where  it  should  have  been  but  the  car  was 
almost  a  total  wreck.  Bags  and  trunks  and  boxes 
were  scattered  in  all  directions.  The  young  man 
carefully  picked  his  way  among  them  and  finally 
came  to  one  very  large  trunk  that  caused  his  heart  to 
beat  a  little  faster.  On  the  side  was  the  black  eagle 
of  the  old  Russian  Empire,  and  on  top  was  stenciled 
the  name  of  the  man  who  had  been  the  Ambassador 
of  that  unhappy  country.  His  fingers  itched  to  get 
at  the  contents  of  the  chest.  How  could  he  do  so? 
What  pretext  should  he  make  for  getting  possession 
of  that  trunk? 

Just  at  that  moment  he  heard  the  honk-honk  of 
an  automobile  horn  and  looking  down  the  road  be- 
held a  plum-colored  car  speeding  in  the  direction 
of  the  wreck.  That  car  could  belong  to  but  one 
man,  and  his  name  was  Bromley  Barnes.  Even 
while  the  thought  was  running  through  his  mind  the 
automobile  slowed  up  by  his  side,  and  he  was  listen- 
ing to  the  cheery  voice  of  the  detective. 

"  Glad  you're  alive,"  it  was  saying,  "  but  it  sure 
is  hard  to  kill  an  American  soldier." 

It  was  all  that  Prescott  could  do  to  refrain  from 


A  Fresh  Surprise  165 

embracing  his  welcome  friend.  His  surprise  found 
expression  in  a  query : 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  manage  to  get 
here?" 

"  That's  easy,"  retorted  Barnes,  "  I  was  waiting 
at  the  station  for  you  when  we  got  word  of  the 
wreck.  I  had  my  car  there  waiting  to  nab  Castro, 
so  I  just  jumped  into  it  —  and  here  I  am.  But 
where's  the  long-legged  rascal  ?  " 

"  He's  gone,  disappeared,  vamoosed,"  chuckled 
Vance,  with  pretended  remorsefulness. 

"  The  devil  you  say?  "  ejaculated  the  detective. 

"  But  it  may  relieve  your  mind,"  Prescott  has- 
tened to  say,  "  to  know  that  he  has  been  taken  to 
the  hospital  in  an  unconscious  condition." 

"  That's  better,"  commented  Barnes  in  a  tone  of 
relief;  "next  to  being  in  jail  it  is  just  where  he 
should  be." 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  few  moments  and  then 
Vance  plucked  at  the  sleeve  of  the  detective  and 
pointed  to  the  trunk. 

"  That's  what  we  want,"  he  whispered,  "  but  what 
excuse  can  we  make  for  taking  it?  " 

The  eyes  of  the  old  investigator  glistened  with 
excitement.  He  pondered  for  a  moment,  and  then 
turned  swiftly  to  his  friend : 

"  Who's  in  charge  of  the  wreck  ?  "  he  snapped. 


166  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  Farley  —  a  giant  who  does  things  and  has 
mighty  little  to  say." 

Barnes  chortled  with  joy. 

"  I  know  him  as  I  know  my  own  brother.  Just 
wait  here  until  I  have  a  few  words  with  this  prac- 
tical person." 

He  left,  and  in  less  than  five  minutes  returned,  his 
face  beaming  with  the  air  of  one  who  has  accom- 
plished his  purpose. 

"  It's  all  right.  As  the  representative  of  the  State 
Department  you  have  been  given  permission  to  take 
this  trunk.  I've  given  F'arley  a  receipt  and  my  word 
of  honor  that  the  Russian  Ambassador  will  get  his 
trunk  with  all  that  belongs  to  him.  Thus  we  are 
given  the  legal  right  to  do  an  illegal  thing." 

The  heavy  trunk  was  hoisted  into  the  plum- 
colored  car,  and  in  a  few  minutes  it  was  on  the  main 
road  speeding  to  Washington.  Neither  of  the  men 
had  much  to  say.  Their  minds  were  upon  the  con- 
tents of  the  trunk.  Both  of  them  could  picture  the 
green  wallet,  lying  on  top  of  the  Ambassador's 
wardrobe,  where  it  had  been  placed  by  the  thief  who 
had  stolen  it  from  the  walnut  cabinet.  It  was 
agreed  that  they  should  go  directly  to  the  apartments 
of  Vance  Prescott,  where  the  search  could  be  made 
in  the  privacy  of  his  rooms.  Barnes  proved  the 
mettle  of  the  little  plum-colored  car.  Speed  laws 


A  Fresh  Surprise  167 

were  ignored,  and  for  the  second  time  that  day  Pres- 
cott  found  life  and  limb  being  disregarded  for  the 
sake  of  a  few  minutes  of  time. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  car  halted 
at  the  curb  in  front  of  the  apartments  of  the  young 
soldier.  Passers-by  were  treated  to  the  spectacle  of 
two  gentlemen  struggling  with  a  trunk  which  bore 
upon  one  end  the  picturesque  eagle  of  the  Russian 
Empire.  The  elevator  attendant  stared  at  them 
with  polite  surprise,  but  when  Vance  suddenly  thrust 
a  dollar  into  his  hand  his  surprise  intensified  to  a 
degree  which  rendered  him  speechless.  That,  evi- 
dently, was  the  effect  which  Prescott  desired.  Two 
minutes  later  the  bulky  bit  of  baggage  was  landed  in 
the  bedroom  of  the  young  soldier.  The  door  was 
locked  and  Barnes  was  down  on  his  knees  with  a 
steel  implement  in  his  hand. 

"  Vance,"  he  said  laughingly,  "  I'll  now  give  you 
an  exhibition  how  to  pick  a  lock.  It  seems  like  a 
criminal  thing  to  do,  but  I've  been  associated  with 
criminals  all  my  life." 

"  I  hope,"  bantered  Prescott,  "  that  you  have  no 
reference  to  present  company.  I'm  a  little  touchy 
just  now.  I  feel  like  a  grave  robber,  although  I 
never  tried  to  rob  a  grave." 

Bromley  Barnes,  absorbed  in  his  task,  did  not  heed 
this  remark.  He  worked  with  a  practiced  hand,  and 


168  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

while  he  seemed  to  experience  some  difficulty  he 
was  not  at  all  discouraged.  Many  minutes  passed, 
and  finally  he  gave  a  sigh  of  satisfaction.  The  next 
moment  the  lid  of  the  trunk  was  lifted,  and  the  con- 
tents exposed  to  view.  Some  silk  shirts  and  a  set 
of  silk  pajamas  were  on  top  of  the  articles  in  the 
chest,  a  sight  that  would  no  doubt  have  incensed  the 
Bolsheviki,  if  they  could  have  seen  this  awful  evi- 
dence of  autocracy. 

.  Barnes  and  Prescott  joined  in  the  search  for  the 
contract.  They  removed  every  article  in  the  trunk 
and  searched  every  inch  of  space  with  greatest  care. 
When  they  had  finished  they  looked  at  one  another  in 
dumb  surprise.  It  was  not  necessary  for  them  to 
speak.  Their  expressions  and  the  pile  of  clothing 
on  the  floor  told  the  story. 

The  green  wallet  was  not  in  the  Ambassador's 
trunk ! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

FORTY-FIVE   JACKSON    STREET 

IT  was  significant  of  the  Spartan-like  spirit  of  the 
two  men  that  they  finished  re-packing  the  trunk 
before  they  said  a  word.  Barnes  locked  it  with  the 
same  ingenuity  with  which  he  had  opened  it,  and 
Vance,  going  to  the  telephone,  called  up  a  local  ex- 
pressman, and  gave  him  directions  for  removing  the 
trunk  to  the  residence  of  the  Russian  Ambassador. 
It  was  after  all  of  this  had  been  done,  and  Vance 
had  thrown  himself  in  an  easy  chair  that  he  turned 
to  his  friend  and  said : 

"Well,  what  do  you  propose  to  do  now?  " 

Barnes  smiled  whimsically. 

"  If  you'll  open  your  heart  and  the  box  at  the 
same  time  I'm  going  to  smoke  one  of  those  cigars 
you  had  sent  to  you  from  Havana." 

A  minute  later  both  men  were  puffing  away  at  the 
perfectos,  and  the  smoke  was  curling  in  grayish 
clouds  toward  the  ceiling. 

"You  don't  suppose,  do  you/'  suggested  the 
detective,  "that  Castro  could  have  gotten  into 

169 


170  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

that  trunk  before  we  carted  it  away  from  the 
wreck  ?  " 

"  It  would  have  been  a  physical  impossibility. 
The  trunk  was  in  the  baggage  car  from  the  time  it 
left  the  station.  After  the  smash-up  Castro  was 
taken  to  the  hospital.  I  have  Farley's  word  for 
that,  and  I  don't  doubt  it." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Barnes,  "  that  the  best 
thing  we  can  do  is  to  go  to  the  hospital  and  put  the 
scoundrel  under  arrest.  Even  if  we  don't  get  the 
green  wallet,  we'll  have  the  satisfaction  of  placing 
him  under  lock  and  key." 

Vance  shook  his  head. 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  do  with  Castro,  but,  for 
my  part,  I  intend  to  get  the  wallet.  I'm  still 
frankly  puzzled  about  the  Spanish-American.  It 
was  to  his  interest  to  leave  the  contract  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Francis  Vernon." 

"  Quite  true,  but  doesn't  it  occur  to  you  that  it 
might  have  been  to  his  greater  interest  to  take  it 
away  from  him  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  the  bribe  was  too  much  for  him. 
Things  have  changed  since  you  carried  the  wallet  to 
Idlewild.  Then  Castro  stood  to  win,  let  us  say  ten 
thousand  dollars.  Now  he  can  get  ten  times  that 
much  if  he  can  prevent  the  United  States  and  her 


Forty-Five  Jackson  Street          171 

Allies  from  getting  the  oil  fields  of  Mexico.  Don't 
you  see  that  he's  playing  for  a  big  stake  and  that 
he  will  resort  to  anything  to  win  ?  " 

Prescott  nodded. 

"  I  never  thought  about  that.  Maybe  you're 
right" 

Barnes  arose  and  put  on  his  hat. 

"  I'm  going  to  the  Miseracordia  Hospital  and  have 
a  few  words  with  Castro." 

Vance  pulled  the  telephone  toward  him. 

"  Wait  a  minute  and  see  if  we  can  get  them  on  the 
wire." 

The  connection  was  made  quickly  enough  and  the 
young  man  asked  about  the  Spanish-American. 
The  nurse  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire  excused  her- 
self in  order  to  make  the  inquiry.  She  returned  in 
a  few  moments. 

"  I'm  very  sorry,"  she  said,  "  but  Count  Castro 
left  the  hospital  an  hour  ago." 

Vance  clapped  the  receiver  on  the  hook  with  a 
jerk  and  repeated  the  message  to  the  detective. 
Barnes  grinned  sheepishly. 

"  It  looks  as  though  we  had  lost  both  the  man 
and  the  wallet." 

"  You're  not  going  to  throw  up  the  sponge,  are 
you  ?  "  asked  Vance  in  a  challenging  voice. 

"  Not  on  your  life,"  thundered  the  old  man,  pull- 


172  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

ing  his  soft  felt  hat  down  over  his  eyes.  "  I'm  go- 
ing to  the  hospital  myself  to  make  sure  about  the 
business,  and  if  I  don't  get  a  clew  of  some  kind  my 
name  isn't  Barnes." 

He  slammed  the  door  after  him,  and  Vance 
could  hear  his  retreating  footsteps  going  down  the 
hall. 

Prescott  remained  seated  for  a  long  time  debating 
his  next  move.  He  was  just  as  determined  to  fol- 
low the  adventure  to  the  bitter  end  as  ever  but  he  did 
not  want  to  make  any  false  moves.  He  considered 
the  desirability  of  taking  the  Secretary  of  State  into 
his  confidence  but  finally  rejected  that  as  imprudent 
and  as  unfair  to  Professor  Vernon.  At  this  stage 
of  his  musings  he  was  interrupted  by  the  insistent 
ringing  of  the  telephone  bell.  He  lifted  the  receiver 
in  a  languid  manner. 

"  I'd  like  to  speak  to  Captain  Vance  Prescott," 
said  a  strange  voice. 

"  At  the  phone,"  he  replied. 

There  was  a  moment's  hesitation  and  then  the 
words  came  slowly  and  deliberately. 

"  I've  been  asked  to  notify  you  that  if  you  will 
call  at  Forty-five  Jackson  Street  at  eight  o'clock  to- 
night you  will  learn  something  to  your  advantage. 
Come  alone,  because  the  matter  is  private  and  con- 
fidential." 


Forty-Five  Jackson  Street  173 

"  Who  is  this  speaking?  " 

"  Never*  mind.  I  am  only  delivering  the  mes- 
sage for  another  person." 

"  And  the  name  of  that  person?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  it  is  a  friend  who 
finds  it  necessary  to  remain  unknown." 

"  But,  surely,"  protested  Prescott,  "  I  — " 

"  If  you  have  any  doubt  about  coming,"  inter- 
rupted the  voice,  "  you  are  referred  to  Professor 
Vernon.  He  is  vitally  concerned." 

"  But,"  began  Vance,  "  I  do  — " 

"That's  all  —  suit  yourself,"  cut  in  the  voice  at 
the  other  end  of  the  wire ;  "  good  night !  " 

The  amazed  young  man  found  the  connection  sev- 
ered. Mechanically  he  wrote  the  address  and  hour 
on  a  pad  that  lay  before  him.  Then  he  leaned  back 
in  his  chair  and  tried  to  think.  He  was  very  much 
dissatisfied  with  himself.  The  events  of  the  last 
thirty-six  hours  seemed  to  deprive  him  of  the  power 
of  coherent  thought.  What  should  he  do  about  the 
astonishing  message?  He  looked  at  his  watch.  It 
was  already  seven  o'clock.  Time  had  passed  with 
curious  rapidity.  He  wondered  if  Bromley  Barnes 
would  return.  Should  he  wait  for  him?  That 
would  be  out  of  the  question  if  he  intended  to  an- 
swer this  strange  summons.  He  remembered  that 
he  had  eaten  nothing  since  early  in  the  morning,  and 


174  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

he  would  just  have  time  enough  to  get  a  hurried  din- 
ner if  he  kept  the  appointment. 

He  found  himself  with  his  hat  and  coat  on,  hurry- 
ing down  Pennsylvania  Avenue  in  the  direction  of 
the  chop  house  where  he  dined  occasionally.  He 
chose  a  table  in  a  secluded  corner,  gave  his  order 
quickly  and  bribed  the  waiter  to  bring  the  meal  as 
speedily  as  possible.  It  was  a  curious  psychological 
condition.  He  had  not  really  decided  to  go  to 
Forty-five  Jackson  Street  and  yet  his  physical  self 
seemed  to  be  pushing  him  forward  with  irresistible 
certainty.  The  food  was  placed  before  him  and  he 
ate  with  an  indifference  to  quality  and  quantity  that 
would  have  shocked  any  man  of  epicurean  tastes. 

A  voice  within  him  whispered  that  it  would  be 
folly  to  pay  attention  to  an  anonymous  message. 
But  the  romantic  part  of  his  being  rose  up  and  de- 
clared that  it  held  forth  the  promise  of  an  adventure 
which  could  not  possibly  be  ignored.  Prudence 
suggested  that  he  take  the  matter  to  the  police,  but 
loyalty  to  Francis  Vernon  scouted  the  idea  of  giving 
publicity  to  an  incident  that  might  easily  cause  a  na- 
tional scandal.  Even  when  he  had  finished  the  meal 
and  tipped  the  waiter  he  would  not  admit  to  himself 
that  he  intended  keeping  the  engagement.  But 
when  he  reached  the  sidewalk  of  the  restaurant  he 
hailed  a  taxicab,  and  entering,  said  to  the  driver : 


Forty-Five  Jackson  Street          175 

"  Forty-five  Jackson  Street  —  in  a  hurry !  " 

He  had  a  hazy  notion  of  the  locality.  It  was  be- 
yond the  southern  end  of  the  capitol  and  was  far 
from  aristocratic.  The  vehicle  made  good  time  and 
in  half  an  hour  pulled  up  in  front  of  a  row  of  rather 
shabby  looking  houses.  He  alighted  and  noted  that 
number  forty-five  was  less  promising  than  its  neigh- 
bor. A  placard  announced  that  rooms  were  to  let. 
He  walked  up  the  steps  and  pressed  the  electric  but- 
ton. Some  time  passed  before  he  received  any  re- 
sponse. Finally  the  door  opened  on  a  crack  and  a 
bedraggled  house  maid  glared  at  him.  For  a  man 
of  the  world  he  was  strangely  at  a  loss  for  words. 

"  I  was  told,"  he  began  hesitatingly,  "  that  — " 

"  Oh !  "  she  interrupted  him  with  a  shrill  voice, 
"ain't  you  the  man  what  had  an  engagement  for 
eight  o'clock  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  not  without  some  inward 
qualms,  "  I'm  the  man." 

She  opened  the  door  wide. 

"  You're  to  go  right  up  to  the  second  story  back. 
I  guess  you  can  find  your  way." 

He  guessed  so,  too,  but  he  had  to  grope  his  way 
through  the  illy-lighted  hallway.  He  went  up  a 
flight  of  creaky  stairs  and  presently  halted  before  the 
door  of  the  apartment  to  which  he  had  been  directed. 
He  tapped  on  the  panel.  A  gruff  voice  called: 


176  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  Come  in." 

He  opened  the  door  and  entered.  The  room  was 
poorly  lighted  and  badly  furnished.  On  one  side  of 
the  wall  was  a  cheap  print  of  the  Congressional 
Library  and  on  the  other  a  lithograph  of  George 
Washington.  There  was  a  couch  against  the  wall 
and  a  couple  of  dilapidated  chairs.  Beyond  was  a 
door  that  evidently  led  to  another  room  and  in  front 
of  a  rear  window  a  dirty  portiere.  A  large  arm 
chair  stood  almost  in  the  center  of  the  apartment. 
No  one  was  in  sight.  He  walked  over  to  the  wall 
and  tapped  on  it  to  attract  attention.  Suddenly 
there  was  a  movement  behind  the  soiled  curtains 
and  two  men  rushed  out  and  grabbed  him  by  the 
arms.  It  was  so  sudden  that  he  did  not  have  a 
chance  to  defend  himself.  He  heard  a  gruff  voice. 

"  Shut  his  mouth  —  do  you  hear  ?  " 

The  next  instant  a  big  handkerchief  was  tied 
about  his  face  and  he  was  speechless.  He  tried  to 
break  away  from  his  captors,  but  in  vain.  His 
hands  and  feet  were  bound  and  he  was  thrown  vio- 
lently into  the  arm  chair  in  the  center  of  the  room. 
It  was  evident  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of  expert 
highwaymen.  A  jeering  voice  was  heard  and  then 
another  man  stood  in  front  of  him,  his  arms  akimbo 
and  a  leer  on  his  ugly  face.  One  glance  was  suffi- 
cient to  reveal  his  identity. 


Forty-Five  Jackson  Street          177 

It  was  the  second  of  the  two  murderous  looking 
Mexicans  who  had  been  on  his  trail  ever  since  he 
left  the  State  Department  on  the  previous  day.  He 
cursed  his  stupidity  in  coming  to  such  a  place  alone. 
He  had  childishly  walked  into  the  trap  that  had 
been  set  for  him.  But  what  did  they  want  with 
him  ?  What  was  the  object  of  this  kidnaping  ?  He 
was  not  left  long  in  doubt. 

"  Stand  him  up !  "  commanded  the  obnoxious 
looking  ruffian. 

The  two  accomplices  yanked  him  from  the  chair 
with  a  violence  that  made  his  teeth  chatter.  Then 
the  Mexican  began  to  search  him  with  the  thorough- 
ness of  a  trained  thief.  Every  pocket  was  rifled, 
but  the  net  result  was  only  his  watch  and  penknife, 
a  few  letters  and  a  small  roll  of  bills.  The  fellow 
calmly  appropriated  the  money,  but  he  was  plainly 
disappointed. 

"  He  hasn't  got  it,"  he  cried,  with  a  horrible  oath. 

He  gave  the  helpless  soldier  a  blow  in  the  face 
and  Vance  found  himself  thrown  back  into  the  chair. 
His  blood  boiled.  If  only  he  could  free  his  hands 
he  would  give  the  scoundrels  something  to  remem- 
ber. But  it  was  useless  to  struggle.  He  was  in 
their  power.  For  some  moments  the  Mexican  stood 
glaring  at  him  with  a  murderous  look  in  his  evil 
eyes.  Whatever  designs  he  might  have  had  he 


178  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

abandoned.     He  turned  to  the  others  and   cried : 

"  You  know  the  orders.  Hurry  up  or  it  may  be 
too  late." 

They  all  hurried  from  the  room  and  slammed  the 
door  behind  them.  Vance  Prescott  found  himself 
alone,  with  nothing  but  his  humiliating  thoughts  to 
keep  him  company.  He  could  have  cried  with  rage. 
To  think  that  such  an  episode  could  happen  in  the 
city  of  Washington  in  the  year  1918!  It  was  in- 
credible. It  was  unbelievable.  And  yet  he  knew 
from  his  work  in  the  Bureau  of  Intelligence  that  the 
hidden  records  of  the  War  Department  could  match 
it  with  stories  that  were  just  as  seemingly  impos- 
sible. 

How  long  he  remained  there  in  that  disgraceful 
position  he  did  not  know.  The  silence  was  oppres- 
sive. He  could  hear  the  ticking  of  his  watch.  The 
ruffians  had  not  taken  the  timepiece.  Possibly  the 
fact  that  his  name  was  engraved  on  the  back  of  it 
accounted  for  this  apparent  oversight. 

The  tension  had  just  about  reached  the  breaking 
point  when  Vance  heard  footsteps  in  the  corridor, 
and  the  next  moment  Bromley  Barnes  rushed  into 
the  room.  He  comprehended  the  situation  at  a 
glance.  Indeed,  he  seemed  to  have  anticipated  ex- 
actly what  he  found.  He  lost  no  time  in  prelimina- 
ries. With  two  or  three  rapid  movements  of  the 


BROMLEY  BARNES  RUSHED  INTO  THE  ROOM 


Forty-Five  Jackson  Street          179 

hand  he  removed  the  handkerchief,  and  then  untied 
the  hands  and  feet  of  his  helpless  associate.  After 
that  he  could  not  forbear  a  compassionate  smile. 
Prescott,  however,  was  in  anything  but  a  merry 
mood.  He  rose  stiffly,  his  bones  aching  from  the 
cramped  position  in  which  he  had  been  held.  He 
looked  at  his  friend  in  a  questioning  manner. 

"  How  did  you  know  that  — " 

But  Barnes  cut  him  off  crisply. 

"  It  was  easy.  I  found  the  address  on  the  writing 
table  in  your  room.  It  was  clearly  a  telephone  call. 
I  suspected  a  trap  had  been  set  for  you,  and  I  hur- 
ried here  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"  I  took  a  chance,"  pleaded  Vance  in  self-defense. 
"  I  thought  it  might  have  something  to  do  with  the 
green  wallet." 

The  detective  laughed  heartily. 

"  I'll  bet  you  were  right  about  that ;  only  it  was  in 
a  different  way  than  you  had  anticipated." 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Vance,  "  but  how  do  you  know 
what  happened  ?  " 

"  By  using  my  eyes  and  my  head.  It  was  all 
right  to  answer  the  'phone  call,  but  you  should  have 
had  two  or  three  policemen,  and  then  the  gang  might 
have  been  pinched." 

"  Yes,  but  the  publicity,"  Vance  protested,  "  and 
then  they  would  have  been  on  their  guard,  and  the 


180  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

sight  of  the  police  would  have  scared  them  off." 

"  Quite  likely.  But  there's  no  use  in  crying  over 
spilt  milk.  The  best  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  go 
back  to  your  rooms.  There  may  be  something  do- 
ing there." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Me?  Why  I'm  going  to  stay  here  and  clear  up 
this  mystery.  My  guess  is  that  this  room  has  been 
rented  solely  for  your  entertainment.  But  the 
woman  of  the  house  will  find  it  to  her  interest  to  help 
me  to  catch  these  hoodlums.  I'm  going  to  run  it  out 
anyhow,  and  I'll  join  you  as  soon  as  possible." 

Prescott  left  him,  and  started  for  his  apartments. 
The  taxi-cab  was  gone  from  in  front  of  the  house, 
and  the  victim  rightly  guessed  that  it  had  been 
pressed  into  service  by  his  assailants.  He  decided 
to  walk  home.  His  legs  and  arms  were  sore,  and  he 
yearned  to  stretch  his  limbs.  Besides,  it  gave  him 
an  opportunity  of  thinking.  The  movement  of  his 
body  seemed  to  stimulate  his  brain.  It  was  a  clear 
night  and  he  enjoyed  the  exercise.  It  was  so  agree- 
able that  he  prolonged  the  walk.  Finally  he  reached 
his  house,  and  at  the  same  instant  he  was  treated  to 
a  surprise. 

He  could  see  his  apartments  from  the  street,  and 
he  saw  that  both  of  his  rooms  were  brilliantly  il- 
luminated. He  was  certain  that  when  he  left  he  had 


Forty-Five  Jackson  Street          181 

turned  off  the  lights  and  locked  the  door  of  the  outer 
room.  But  now  it  appeared  to  be  occupied,  and  if 
appearances  counted  for  anything  there  must  be  a 
reception  in  progress.  He  made  his  way  to  the  ele- 
vator, and  induced  the  operator  to  make  a  quick  trip. 
He  found  the  door  of  his  room  closed,  but  when  he 
opened  it  a  flood  of  light  burst  on  him.  He  blinked 
for  a  moment,  but  when  he  was  able  to  get  his  bear- 
ings a  strange  sight  met  his  eyes. 

The  room  was  in  utter  disorder.  Papers,  letters 
and  articles  of  clothing  were  scattered  in  every  direc- 
tion. In  the  midst  of  this  chaos  the  trunk  of  the 
Russian  Ambassador  stood  up  like  a  lighthouse  in 
the  midst  of  an  angry  sea.  The  lid  yawned  wide 
open,  and  the  contents  of  the  chest  had  been  thrown 
about  helter-skelter  as  though  some  one  had  made  a 
wild  and  hurried  search.  Vance  had  no  doubt  but 
that  the  Mexican  who  had  subjected  him  to  the  indig- 
nity at  Forty-five  Jackson  Street  had  been  in  his 
rooms.  If  so,  the  fellow  was  working  under  the  di- 
rection of  one  with  more  brains  than  himself.  It 
was  not  difficult  to  guess  the  name  of  the  person  who 
had  directed  the  search. 

It  could  be  none  other  than  Count  Castro ! 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ON  A  NEW  TRAIL 

VANCE  PRESCOTT  had  plenty  of  time  for  reflection 
while  he  was  collecting  the  effects  of  the  Russian 
Ambassador.  If  His  Excellency  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  wardrobe  at  that  moment  he  would 
have  suspected  that  it  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  mob  which  even  at  that  moment  was  creating 
havoc  in  the  domain  of  the  late  Tsar.  Being  a 
soldier,  and  having  been  taught  the  value  of  order, 
Vance  managed  to  place  each  of  the  articles  in  the 
trunk  with  some  degree  of  tidiness.  He  was  satis- 
fied that  nothing  had  been  abstracted.  The  one 
thing  wanted  by  the  intruders  was  not  there  and 
they  had  taken  a  malicious  delight  in  turning  things 
topsy-turvy. 

Vance  had  just  finished  the  job  of  straightening 
out  his  room  when  the  door  opened  and  Bromley 
Barnes  walked  in,  his  face  wreathed  in  smiles.  Be- 
fore Prescott  had  a  chance  to  say  a  word,  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Well,  I  see  you've  set  things  in  order  again." 
182 


On  a  New  Trail  183 

"  How  did  you  know  that  they  were  in  any  other 
condition  ?  " 

The  detective  smiled. 

"  Simply  by  using  my  brains.  It  was  as  plain  as 
day  that  these  fellows,  having  failed  to  get  what 
they  were  after  at  Forty-five  Jackson  Street,  would 
come  around  to  your  rooms  and  make  a  search.  I 
figured  that  they  would  literally  turn  things  upside 
down  and  — " 

"  So  they  did,"  confessed  Prescott ;  "  when  I  came 
in  here  it  looked  as  though  the  place  had  been  struck 
by  a  cyclone." 

"  I  suppose  you  hurried  here  ?  " 

"  No,"  admitted  Vance  ruefully,  "  I  walked 
home." 

"  And  in  that  way  gave  them  all  the  time  they 
needed." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  began  Prescott;  "I  really — " 

"  Never  mind,"  interrupted  Barnes.  "  It  would 
have  happened  anyhow.  Besides,  I've  got  good 
news  for  you." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  I've  captured  the  Mexican  who  treated  you  so 
disrespectfully." 

"  That's  the  best  news  —  that  brings  us  a  step 
nearer  to  the  green  wallet." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  but  I've  got  him  behind 


184  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

lock  and  key.  We've  got  both  the  murderous  Mex- 
icans now,  and  if  they  don't  get  the  third  degree  my 
name  isn't  Bromley  Barnes." 

"  How  did  you  get  him  ?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  That's  a  long  story,"  replied  the  detective,  "  but 
it's  enough  to  say  that  we  employed  ordinary  police 
methods.  We  managed  to  get  some  information 
from  the  landlady  of  the  Jackson  Street  house,  and 
we  also  located  the  driver  of  the  taxicab,  and  finally 
we  rounded  up  Mr.  Pedro  Lopez  —  that's  his  name 
—  just  as  he  was  preparing  to  hop  a  train  in  the 
Union  Station.  We've  got  both  of  them  in  custody 
now,  and  I'll  cheerfully  admit  that  I  never  met  a 
finer  pair  of  cutthroats  in  all  my  life." 

"  Have  you  been  able  to  get  anything  out  of 
them?" 

"  Not  yet,  but  we  will.  Your  very  bad  citizen 
nearly  always  squeals  on  his  pals.  There  never  was 
and  never  will  be  honor  among  thieves.  Werta  and 
Lopez  are  still  under  the  delusion  that  Count  Castro 
will  come  to  their  rescue.  They  imagine  that  he  has 
great  influence  in  the  United  States.  They  con- 
sider him  a  man  with  a  pull.  But  I'm  perfectly  sure 
that  he  intends  to  dump  them.  The  minute  they 
permitted  themselves  to  get  into  the  hands  of  the 
police  they  lost  their  usefulness  so  far  as  our  distin- 
guished friend  was  concerned.  Now  that  they're 


On  a  New  Trail  185 

under  lock  and  key  he'll  leave  them  to  their  fate. 
They  will  discover  this  sooner  or  later  —  sooner,  if 
it  rests  with  me  —  and  then  we  may  look  for  some 
interesting  revelations." 

Vance  looked  thoughtful. 

"If  they're  going  to  help  us,"  he  said,  "  they  will 
have  to  do  it  before  the  seventh  of  May." 

"  The  anniversary  of  the  sinking  of  the  Lusi- 
tania?  " 

"  Precisely  —  you  remember  that  is  the  day  the 
Ambassadors  are  to  meet  to  complete  the  signing  of 
the  contract  for  the  control  of  the  Mexican  oil 
fields." 

Barnes  wrinkled  his  brow  in  good-natured  protest. 

"Remember  it?  See  here,  young  man,  what  do 
you  think  I'm  in  this  case  for?  Next  thing  you'll 
want  to  know  if  I  forget  that  my  head  is  on  my 
shoulders." 

Vance  Prescott  did  not  seem  to  hear  these  words. 
He  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room  in  deep 
thought.  His  jaw  was  thrust  out  in  the  way  that 
emphasized  the  determined  part  of  his  character. 
Presently  he  paused  in  front  of  his  friend. 

"  See  here,  Barnes,  I've  been  doing  some  thinking 
about  the  green  wallet." 

"  Well,"  said  the  veteran,  "  what  about  it?  " 

"  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Castro  and 


186  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

you  and  I  have  all  been  on  a  wild  goose  chase." 

"  That's  interesting,  but  I  thought  you  were  sure 
it  was  placed  in  the  Ambassador's  trunk?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  I  was  sure.  I  simply  told  you  of 
the  conversation  between  Castro  and  his  unknown 
confederate.  The  Spanish-American  believed  that 
the  wallet  was  placed  in  the  trunk.  Otherwise  why 
should  he  go  to  the  trouble  of  following  it  to  Wash- 
ington? Why  should  he  send  his  thugs  to  my 
rooms  to  ransack  the  trunk  ?  We  have  been  fooled. 
Castro  has  been  fooled." 

Barnes  looked  at  him  steadily  for  some  moments. 

"If  this  is  the  case  the  wallet  must  have  been 
taken  from  the  trunk  before  the  trunk  left  Idlewild." 

"  You  have  said  it." 

"  Well,"  commented  Barnes,  after  a  pause,  "  what 
are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  back  to  Idlewild." 

"  Good  for  you.  That  sounds  like  business. 
Have  you  any  objection  to  my  going  along?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  was  going  to  ask  you  to  go. 
I  haven't  the  slightest  idea  where  we  are  going  to  be- 
gin after  we  get  there,  but  I'm  satisfied  that  we 
must  go  to  Idlewild  in  order  to  pick  up  the  threads. 
Where  they  will  lead  us  is  a  matter  that  will  have  to 
be  considered  later." 

Barnes  looked  at  his  friend  with  something  like 


On  a  New  Trail  187 

admiration  in  his  brown  eyes.  He  dropped  his  ban- 
tering tone. 

"  Vance,  I  believe  in  you,  and  I'm  sure  you're  go- 
ing to  make  good  in  this  business.  The  main  thing 
is  persistence  and  the  resolve  never  to  become  dis- 
couraged. You  have  had  some  set-backs,  but  they 
haven't  been  through  any  fault  of  your  own.  I 
should  say  that  you  had  been  a  victim  of  circum- 
stances. The  whole  trouble  in  this  country  is  that 
we  have  under-estimated  the  ingenuity  of  the  enemy. 
We've  been  too  devilish  tolerant.  We're  up  against 
an  utterly  unscrupulous  foe  and  we  must  act  accord- 
ingly. From  now  on  it  must  be  a  fight  to  the  finish 
and  no  quarter  to  the  man  or  woman  who  blocks  our 
way." 

Prescott  thought  of  Hope.  Vernon  and  his  face 
flushed  with  painful  consciousness. 

"Well,"  he  said,  in  a  desire  to  turn  the  conversa- 
tion, "  the  next  thing  is  to  find  out  when  we  can  go 
to  Idlewild." 

"  It's  impossible  to  get  there  to-night,"  declared 
Barnes. 

"  I  thought  so,  and  the  train  to-morrow  morning 
will  be  rather  late." 

"  You  won't  have  to  depend  on  any  train." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  I'm  going  to  put  that  little  car  of  mine 


188  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

in  commission  —  if  you're  not  too  proud  to  ride  in 
it" 

Vance  declared  that  it  was  a  matter  of  pride  to  be 
permitted  the  privilege  of  passengership  in  the  plum- 
colored  car,  and  it  was  decided  that  they  should 
make  the  start  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

Promptly  at  that  hour  they  left  Prescott's  apart- 
ments and  headed  for  the  road  leading  to  Idlewild. 
It  was  a  clear,  brisk  morning.  Both  men  had  been 
refreshed  by  a  good  night's  sleep  and  their  minds  had 
been  cleared  of  mental  cobwebs. 

"  Somehow  I  feel  as  though  we're  getting  a  fresh 
start  on  this  case,"  commented  Barnes. 

"  Same  way  here,"  acquiesced  Vance,  "  and  if  that 
means  anything  it  means  that  we  are  going  to  get 
results." 

The  trip  was  delightful,  but  without  incident  of 
any  kind.  There  was  not  even  a  punctured  tire  to 
vary  the  pleasant  monotony.  They  reached  their 
destination  in  due  time  and  Barnes  guided  the  ma- 
chine up  the  pathway  leading  to  the  door  of  Idle- 
wild. 

No  one  appeared  to  greet  them.  The  faithful 
Barker  was  conspicuous  by  his  absence.  An  omi- 
nous silence  hovered  about  the  place.  Vance  felt 
his  heart  sinking.  Could  anything  have  happened  to 
Francis  Vernon.  He  was  remorseful  —  as  though 


On  a  New  Trail  189 

he  had,  in  some  way,  been  responsible  for  the  catas- 
trophe. They  alighted  and  Vance  pressed  the  elec- 
tric button.  They  had  to  wait  a  long  while,  which 
did  not  serve  to  allay  their  anxiety.  But  presently 
the  door  opened  and  they  were  greeted  by  a  sweet, 
motherly  old  lady  with  her  snow  white  hair  parted  in 
the  middle.  It  was  Mrs.  Spencer,  the  housekeeper. 
She  greeted  them  pleasantly  and  ushered  them  into 
the  familiar  living-room. 

"How  is  Professor  Vernon?"  asked  Vance,  not 
without  a  feeling  of  trepidation. 

"  He  is  getting  better  every  day,"  she  announced, 
"  and  his  only  regret  seems  to  be  that  his  guests  were 
put  to  so  much  inconvenience  by  his  illness." 

Prescott  smiled.  He  was  sure  that  another  and 
deeper  regret  lurked  in  the  mind  of  Francis  Vernon. 

"  He  has  recovered  consciousness,  of  course?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Entirely,  but  the  full  power  of  speech  has  not 
come  back.  The  doctor  bids  him  be  perfectly  quiet 
and  says  he  must  not  try  to  talk.  But  if  the  im- 
provement continues  he  will  be  allowed  to  have  his 
say  this  blessed  afternoon.  And  my  goodness, 
won't  he  have  a  lot  to  say  after  a  silence  of  more 
than  two  days !  You  know  men  hate  to  keep  quiet." 

The  transparent  sincerity  of  the  old  lady  caused 
the  visitors  to  join  in  her  infectious  laugh. 


190  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  I  don't  suppose  it  would  be  desirable  for  us  io 
see  him  now,  would  it?  " 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  she  replied  hesitatingly;  "you 
see,  I  wouldn't  like  to  decide  a  thing  of  that  kind 
without  consulting  the  doctor.  Not  that  I  think 
there's  any  danger.  The  man's  as  sound  as  either  of 
you,  and  I'm  sure  he'll  be  up  and  about  in  a  day  or 
so." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Spencer,"  said  Barnes,  "  we  won't 
insist  on  seeing  him  this  morning.  But  we  came 
down  here  to  make  some  inquiries.  Barker  might 
help  us  if  he  was  around." 

"  Barker  is  over  at  his  house  —  you  know  the  lit- 
tle lodge  near  the  entrance  to  the  grounds.  He  was 
sitting  up  with  Professor  Vernon  last  night  and  he's 
gone  home  to  get  some  rest.  You  know,"  she 
added,  with  a  humorous  puckering  of  the  lips, 
"  Barker  is  a  person  of  some  consequence  here- 
abouts. He  thinks  Idlewild  would  cease  to  exist 
without  his  presence." 

"  I'm  afraid,  Mrs.  Spencer,"  observed  Barnes  in 
a  conciliatory  tone,  "  very  few  of  us  are  really  indis- 
pensable." 

"  Very  few,"  she  sniffed,  her  venerable  eyes  flash- 
ing fire,  "  and  Barker  is  not  one  of  the  few." 

As  they  were  about  to  depart,  Hope  Vernon  came 
down  the  stairway,  looking  very  pale  and  fragile. 


On  a  New  Trail  191 

There  were  dark  lines  under  her  eyes  and  all  of  the 
sunshine  seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  her  face.  She 
walked  over  to  Barnes  and  greeted  him  with  quiet 
cordiality.  He  repeated  his  inquiry  about  her  father 
and  said  they  were  about  to  call  on  Barker  in 
the  hope  of  obtaining  some  information  in  an  in- 
quiry they  were  making.  Vance  Prescott  stood  a 
few  feet  in  the  rear  of  Barnes.  During  the  entire 
conversation  she  never  looked  at  him.  When  it  was 
ended  she  turned  and  went  up  stairs  as  if  she  had 
been  in  utter  ignorance  of  the  existence  of  the  young 
soldier.  His  face  reddened  to  the  roots  of  his  hair, 
and  then  the  flushed  look  passed  away,  leaving  him 
as  cold  as  ice.  The  detective  noticed  it  and  pitied 
him.  But  he  knew  enough  about  human  nature  to 
understand  that  sympathy  would  be  out  of  the  ques- 
tion at  that  moment.  He  took  another  tack. 

"  Come  on,"  he  said,  "  let's  go  over  and  see 
Barker,  if  that  mighty  personage  will  consent  to  see 
us." 

It  was  a  short  walk  and  they  found  the  door  of 
the  little  house  open.  They  entered  a  cozy  sitting 
room  that  bore  all  the  evidences  of  humble  bachelor- 
hood. There  was  an  odor  of  tobacco  smoke,  and 
over  the  mantel  was  a  gun  which  indicated  the  sport- 
ing proclivities  of  the  occupant  of  the  house.  On 
the  wall  was  a  large  portrait  of  Theodore  Roosevelt, 


192  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

which  might  be  said  to  give  a  clew  to  the  personal 
and  political  inclinations  of  the  worthy  Barker. 

While  they  gazed  about  the  room,  Barker  himself 
entered.  The  man,  in  his  altered  surroundings, 
seemed  an  altered  person.  He  wore  a  long,  flowing, 
silk  dressing  gown.  It  was  old,  and  obviously  had 
belonged  to  Professor  Vernon,  but  Barker  wore  it 
with  a  dignity  all  his  own  and  with  a  haughtiness 
befitting  the  maws-ter  of  the  house.  He  was  glad 
to  greet  his  visitors,  and  yet  plainly  ill  at  ease.  He 
invited  them  to  be  seated,  and  Vance  noticed  that 
his  hands  trembled. 

"  We're  looking  for  a  green  wallet,  Barker,"  said 
Barnes,  coming  to  the  point  with  refreshing  direct- 
ness. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  came  from  the  faithful  one,  as  he 
twisted  a  corner  of  the  silk  dressing  gown  about  the 
forefinger  of  his  right  hand. 

"  We  had  a  notion  that  you  might  help  us,  and 
we've  come  from  Washington  for  the  purpose  of 
asking  you  a  few  questions." 

Barker  looked  a  bit  mysterious.  Leaning  over  he 
remarked  in  a  lower  voice : 

"  You  are  not  the  only  ones  to  do  that  very  thing, 
sir." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Just  what  I  say,  sir.     There's  another  man  in 


On  a  New  Trail  193 

this  very  neighborhood  looking  for  the  very  article 
you  mention." 

"  It's  Count  Castro,"  hazarded  Barnes. 

"  The  very  same,  sir.  But  how  in  the  world  did 
you  come  to  make  such  a  good  guess  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  about  that,"  smiled  the  detective, 
"  but  tell  me  did  the  Count  meet  with  any  suc- 
cess ?  " 

"  He  did  not,  sir." 

"  I'm  glad  to  know  that,  because,  Barker,  we  are 
really  working  in  the  interest  of  your  employer  and 
Castro  is  working  against  him.  That  is  why  we 
come  to  you.  Now  there  is  something  strange  about 
the  trunk  of  the  Russian  Ambassador.  I  had  good 
reason  for  suspecting  that  the  green  wallet  had  been 
slipped  into  the  trunk  before  it  left  this  house,  and 
yet  we  find  that  it  was  not." 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  it  was !  "  exclaimed  the  faithful  one 
involuntarily,  "  I  know  that  it  was  there  because  — 
because  — " 

"  Come,  come,  Barker,"  encouraged  Vance  Pres- 
cott,  "  you  know  you  are  with  friends  and  with 
friends  of  Professor  Vernon." 

"  I  believe  that,  sir,"  said  the  servant,  sinking  into 
a  chair,  "  and  I'm  going  to  make  a  clean  breast  of 
the  whole  business." 

Barnes  cast  a  significant  glance  at  Prescott. 


194  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  I  meant  it  all  for  the  best,  sir,  believe  me  that 
my  only  thought  was  to  serve  Professor  Vernon  — 
the  best  friend  I  ever  had  in  this  world." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  exclaimed  Barnes  impatiently,  "  but 
you  haven't  told  us  what  you  did.  Go  ahead  and 
give  us  the  whole  story." 

Barker  was  silent  for  a  few  moments  trying  to 
collect  his  thoughts  and  nervously  fingering  the  ends 
of  the  silk  dressing  gown. 

"  It  was  this  way,  sir,"  he  began  finally,  "  every- 
body about  the  house  seemed  to  have  the  blues.  I 
know'd  something  was  wrong,  but  what  it  was,  was 
too  deep  for  my  way  of  thinkin'.  I  has  my  sus- 
picions of  Count  Castro,  and  I  makes  up  my  mind  to 
keep  my  eyes  on  him.  I  puts  two  and  two  side  by 
side,  and  I  finds  that  he  is  after  somethin'  in  the 
house  which  really  belongs  to  the  Professor.  After 
awhile  he  goes  into  the  Professor's  study  with  some 
one  — " 

"Who  was  the  some  one,  Barker?"  interrupted 
Barnes. 

"  That  I  can't  say,  sir,  because  he  got  into  the 
room  before  I  could  see  his  face.  But  I  did  catch 
sight  of  the  Count,  and  when  he  closes  and  locks  the 
door  I  was  sure  there  was  somethin'  rotten  in  the 
State  of  Denmark.  Then  I  did  somethin'  I  have 
never  been  guilty  of  before  an'  which  I  hope  I  may. 


On  a  New  Trail  195 

never  be  tempted  to  do  again.  I  listened  at  the  key 
hole." 

Barnes  chuckled,  and  looked  slyly  in  the  direction 
of  Prescott. 

"  The  Count  little  thought  that  he  had  listeners 
on  both  sides,  did  he,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  What's  that,  sir  ?  "  asked  Barker  nervously. 

"  Nothing,"  retorted  Barnes  hastily,  "  go  ahead 
with  your  story." 

"Well,  sir,"  continued  the  faithful  Barker,  "I 
could  only  get  scraps  of  talk  here  and  there,  as 
I  may  say,  but  I  patched  the  words  together  and 
found  out  that  some  one  had  put  a  wallet  in  the 
trunk  of  the  Russian  Ambassador,  and  that  the 
Count  was  interested,  and  that  he  hoped  to  get  it  in 
his  clutches,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  sir,  by  hav- 
ing the  trunk  taken  out  of  the  house.  This  put  me 
in  the  position  of  being  an  accomplice  —  I  think  that 
is  the  legal  name  for  it,  sir  —  an'  I  didn't  like  that 
at  all.  If  you  will  pardon  me  for  sayin'  it,  sir,  I 
have  never  been  criminally  inclined,  an'  I  didn't  rel- 
ish being  made  so  in  my  declinin'  years.  It  was  my 
duty  to  put  the  linen  of  the  Ambassador  into  the 
trunk  when  it  came  from  the  laundry,  an'  then  to  see 
that  it  was  locked  an'  sent  to  his  house  in  Washing- 
ton. Well,  the  linen  came  an'  I  was  terribly 
tempted.  I  —  I  — " 


196  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"Not  to  steal  the  wallet,  Barker?"  interrogated 
Barnes. 

The  faithful  one  straightened  himself,  and  looked 
angrily  at  the  detective. 

"  Certainly  not,  sir.  I  was  tempted  to  take  the 
wallet  out  for  the  sake  of  the  Professor.  I  felt 
somehow  that  I  would  be  doing  him  a  favor.  Well, 
sir,  to  make  a  long  story  short  I  did  that  very  thing. 
I  slipped  it  out  and  sent  the  trunk  to  the  station. 
My  intention  was  to  take  the  wallet  to  the  Professor 
at  once,  an'  to  tell  him  all  I  had  heard.  But  every- 
thing went  wrong.  The  Professor  was  taken  ill. 
The  power  of  speech  left  him  —  an'  I  was  in  a 
dreadful  position.  I  was  afraid  to  give  it  to  any  one 
else  in  the  house.  I  thought  of  going  to  Miss  Hope 
and  to  Mr.  Gilbert,  but  I  was  afraid  they  might  not 
understand  my  motives." 

"  What  did  you  do  with  it?  " 

"  I  hid  it  in  my  bureau  drawer  in  this  very  house, 
an'  that's  where  it  is  at  this  blessed  moment.  I've 
been  waiting  for  the  Professor  to  come  to  his  senses, 
but  it's  been  a  long  wait.  I've  been  very  miserable 
about  the  whole  business,  Mr.  Barnes,  an'  I  hope 
you'll  understand  that  I  didn't  mean  to  do  anything 
that  wasn't  proper." 

"  I'm  sure  of  that,  Barker,"  was  the  cordial  reply, 
"  you  meant  well,  and  it  looks  as  if  it  will  end  well. 


On  a  New  Trail  197 

You  are  sure  that  we  are  real  friends  of  your  em- 
ployer ?  " 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,  sir." 

"  Well,  if  you'll  go  up  stairs,  and  get  the  wallet, 
and  turn  it  over  to  Captain  Prescott  here,  you'll  be 
doing  a  good  day's  work  for  Professor  Vernon. 
I'll  pledge  you  my  word  and  honor  on  that." 

The  servant  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  the 
speaker.  Finally  he  said,  with  decision : 

"  I  believe  you,  sir,  an'  I'll  go  up  and  get  it  for 
you  at  once." 

He  rose  from  the  chair,  and  gathered  the  silk 
dressing  gown  about  him  with  much  dignity,  and 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  realizes  his  importance. 
He  bowed  to  them. 

"  I'll  only  be  a  minute,  gentlemen." 

He  walked  from  the  room  to  a  half-darkened  cor- 
ridor, and  they  could  hear  his  slippered  footsteps  as 
he  pattered  up  the  stairway.  Barnes  and  Prescott 
sat  looking  at  one  another  in  silence.  It  was  cer- 
tainly a  remarkable  ending  to  a  remarkable  adven- 
ture. But  the  thought  that  success  was  within  their 
reach  was  sweet,  and  they  forebore  conversation. 
The  clock  on  the  mantel  ticked  out  the  seconds. 
There  was  a  heavy  sound  from  above.  Barker  was 
evidently  pulling  out  the  bureau  drawers.  Barnes 
nervously  drummed  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  Pres- 


198  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

cott  arose  and  took  a  turn  around  the  room,  and  then 
resumed  his  seat.  They  could  scarcely  wait  until 
Barker  returned.  Why  was  he  so  long?  But  at 
that  moment  they  heard  the  pattering  footsteps  on 
the  stairs  again.  They  waited,  with  expectancy  on 
their  faces.  They  heard  a  rustling  sound  and  the 
figure  in  the  silk  dressing  gown  passed  through  the 
half -darkened  hallway.  It  was  strange  that  Barker 
should  have  gone  to  the  door.  They  waited,  impa- 
tiently. But  he  did  not  return.  What  did  it  mean  ? 
Finally  Barnes  arose,  and  went  to  the  door.  He 
came  back  at  once. 

"  He's  not  in  sight,"  he  announced  with  a  frown 
gathering  on  his  face. 

The  two  men  looked  at  one  another,  and  then, 
simultaneously,  they  hurried  into  the  hallway,  and 
up  the  stairs.  The  door  of  the  first  bedroom  they 
reached  was  closed.  Barnes  opened  it  and  drew 
back  with  a  start.  The  odor  of  chloroform  filled  the 
room.  They  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  rushed 
into  the  room.  A  man,  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  lay,  face 
downward,  on  a  small  couch.  The  detective  turned 
him  over.  He  gave  a  gasp  of  astonishment  and 
dismay. 

It  was  Barker,  looking  up  at  them  out  of  half- 
closed  eyes.  Bromley  Barnes  shook  him  vio- 
lently : 


On  a  New  Trail 199 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  he  demanded 
sternly. 

Barker  roused  himself  with  an  effort.  He  rubbed 
his  eyes  with  trembling  hands.  He  spoke  slowly 
and  thickly. 

"  He  —  he  grabbed  me  by  the  throat  the  minute  I 
came  into  the  room.  I  —  I  couldn't  help  myself. 
He  —  he  clapped  a  handkerchief  over  my  nose,  and 
then  I  must  have  dropped  down  here." 

Barnes  turned  to  Prescott  with  a  strange  look  in 
his  eyes. 

"  But  the  man  in  the  silk  dressing  gown,"  he 
demanded,  "  who  was  that  ?  " 

Vance  smiled  wearily. 

"  Fooled  again,"  he  confessed ;  "  Castro  has  given 
us  cards  and  spades  and  taken  the  trick  once  more." 


CHAPTER  XV 

HOPE  ASSERTS   HERSELF 

FRANCIS  VERNON,  pale  and  thin,  but  with  return- 
ing vitality  in  his  eyes,  drew  the  covers  about  the 
rolling  chair  in  which  he  was  seated  and  addressed 
his  first  coherent  words  to  his  daughter : 

"  Well,  Hope,  I've  got  you  left  —  even  if  I've  lost 
everything  else." 

She  patted  his  hand  affectionately. 

"  You've  got  me,  of  course,  and  you'll  always  have 
me,  but  you  mustn't  be  so  gloomy  about  the  other 
things." 

He  looked  at  her  earnestly. 

"  You  don't  know,  Hope,  you  don't  know." 

"  Please  forget  these  things  for  the  present, 
father,"  she  pleaded;  "  it's  the  only  way  to  recover 
your  health. 

He  smiled  sadly. 

"  The  only  way  I  can  ever  be  myself  again  is  to 
have  the  mystery  cleared." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  he  said : 

"  I  suppose  the  house  party  is  at  an  end  ? 
They've  all  gone  home,  eh  ?  " 


Hope  Asserts  Herself  201 

"Yes,  father." 

"  And  Gilbert  —  where  is  he?  " 

"  He's  gone  away  to  say  good-by  to  May  Ward  — 
you  remember  she's  sailing  as  a  Red  Cross  Nurse." 

"  When  does  she  go  ?  " 

"  She  sails  on  the  Good  Samaritan  —  it  was  due 
to  leave  Baltimore  this  morning.  It  goes  direct  to 
a  French  port  and  May  hopes  to  be  nursing  wounded 
soldiers  within  the  next  ten  days  or  two  weeks." 

"  Fine !  "  commented  the  invalid.  "  That  little 
girl  has  a  big  heart.  And  what  a  contrast  she  pre- 
sents to  Gilbert.  The  boy  humiliates  me.  This  is 
the  first  war  in  which  a  Vernon  has  not  been  repre- 
sented. It's  the  first  time  a  representative  of  the 
family  has  not  been  serving  the  Government  in  some 
capacity.  I  — " 

"  But,  father,"  interrupted  the  girl,  "  think  of 
what  you  are  doing  in  the  State  Department. 
Think—" 

"  Yes,"  he  said  cutting  her  off  abruptly,  "  I  do 
think  and  it  makes  me  almost  insane.  The  one  im- 
portant piece  of  work  given  to  me  proves  a  fiasco. 
My  God !  "  he  cried  impulsively,  "  it's  more  than 
that.  It's  ruin  for  me.  The  name  of  Vernon  will 
be  disgraced !  " 

'*  Father,  father,"  she  implored,  "  you  do  not 
know  what  you  are  saying." 


202  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  he  cried  bitterly.  "  I  know  it  only 
too  well  —  and  to  think  that  I  have  been  robbed  of 
my  honor  in  my  own  house." 

Hope  had  risen  to  her  feet  in  her  excitement. 
Her  eyes  were  distended.  Her  face  was  white  with 
emotion. 

"  Something  was  stolen  from  the  cabinet,"  she 
began,  "  and  — " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  assented  impatiently,  "  everybody 
knows  that." 

"  And  the  loss  of  that  affects  your  honor  —  your 
personal  honor  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  he  said  testily. 

"  Oh  God !  "  she  cried,  "  I  never  dreamt  of  any- 
thing like  that." 

He  stared  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Haven't  you  suspected  the  meaning  of  this  busi- 
ness?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Well  it  was  kept  a  secret  for  the  sake  of  pro- 
tecting the  papers,  but  as  long  as  they're  gone  there's 
no  longer  any  reason  for  being  mysterious  —  at  least 
not  with  you.  It's  enough  to  say  that  the  Secretary 
of  State  sent  to  me  by  Captain  Prescott  copies  of  a 
contract  which  would  have  assured  to  the  United 
States  and  its  Allies  the  control  of  the  oil  fields  of 
Mexico.  That  meant  the  control  of  the  seas  which, 


Hope  Asserts  Herself  203 

in  turn,  guaranteed  to  us  the  victory  which  has  al- 
ready been  won  by  our  soldiers.  The  contract  was 
not  completed  —  the  signatures  of  the  Ambassadors 
of  France,  England  and  Italy  were  to  have  been  at- 
tached to  the  document  on  the  seventh  of  May,  the 
anniversary  of  the  sinking  of  the  Lusitania.  But 
the  green  wallet,  containing  the  copies  of  the  con- 
tract, has  been  stolen  and  I'm  a  broken  man  so  far  as 
diplomacy  or  politics  is  concerned." 

Hope's  eyes  were  dancing  with  excitement. 

"  And  that  was  what  was  stolen  from  the  walnut 
cabinet?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  he  said  fretfully ;  "  are  you  be- 
coming dull  of  comprehension,  or  what  is  the  matter 
with  you?  " 

"  No,  father,"  she  replied,  with  a  curious  ring  in 
her  voice;  "my  eyes  are  opening  now  for  the  first 
time." 

"  I  suppose  it's  my  fault,"  he  murmured.  "  I 
should  have  taken  you  into  my  confidence  at  the  out- 
set. But  still,"  he  added,  "  if  you  had  known  it 
wouldn't  have  made  any  difference  anyhow." 

Once  again  came  queer  sounds  from  Hope  Ver- 
non.  She  was  making  a  brave  effort  to  stop  her 
sobs.  The  Professor  leaned  over  and  placed  his 
hands  on  her  silky,  auburn  hair. 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  dear  ?  "  he  said  gently. 


204  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  Oh,  father,"  she  cried,  breaking  down  com- 
pletely, "  I've  done  such  dreadful  things.  I've  been 
so  foolish.  I  don't  suppose  Vance  Prescott  could 
ever  forgive  me,  but  I  would  give  worlds  to  undo 
some  of  the  harm  I've  done." 

"  My  dear,  my  dear,"  protested  the  parent, 
"  you're  overwrought.  You  don't  know  what 
you're  saying.  You  —  you  haven't  betrothed  your- 
self to  Count  Castro  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No,  but—" 

"But  what?  "  interrupted  the  Professor,  rising  in 
his  eagerness. 

"  But  he  has  asked  me  to  become  his  wife,"  she 
concluded.  "  I  have  a  note,  with  some  flowers. 
He  must  have  been  at  Idlewild  this  morning." 

"  There,  there,"  soothed  the  father,  "  that  doesn't 
commit  you  to  anything.  Don't  be  distressed,  and 
we'll  hope  for  the  best." 

Hope  dried  her  tears  and  gradually  composed  her- 
self. A  look  of  determination  came  into  her  blue 
eyes.  She  looked  at  her  father  wistfully.  She 
wanted  to  take  him  into  her  confidence,  yet  not  do  or 
say  anything  that  would  shock  him  at  a  moment 
when  convalescence  had  begun. 

"  Father,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  want  to  tell 
you—" 


Hope  Asserts  Herself  205 

But  before  she  could  say  another  word  she  was  in- 
terrupted by  a  sharp  rapping  on  the  bedroom  door. 
It  was  an  agitated  knock  —  a  knock  that  was  not  to 
be  denied. 

"  Come  in,"  called  Hope. 

The  knob  turned,  the  door  opened,  and  Barker 
rushed  into  the  room,  out  of  breath,  disheveled,  and 
with  the  appearance  of  a  man  who  had  been  drink- 
ing. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this,  Barker?  "  asked  the 
Professor  sternly. 

"  Count  Castro  robbed  me  —  and  tried  to  murder 
me !  "  he  gasped. 

Francis  Vernon  arose  and  grasped  the  faithful  one 
by  the  arm. 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  trying  to  say?  "  he 
demanded. 

For  the  moment  it  looked  as  if  Barker  had  been 
deprived  of  the  power  of  speech.  His  lips  moved, 
but  no  words  came  forth.  He  was  shaking,  and  was 
in  much  distress.  It  was  Hope  who  took  him  by  the 
arm,  and  led  him  to  a  chair. 

"  Sit  down,  Barker,"  she  said  kindly;  "  take  your 
time  and  let  us  know  what  it  is  all  about." 

He  gave  her  a  grateful  glance,  and  then  still  trem- 
bling, began  very  slowly  to  tell  his  surprising  story. 

"  I'm  afraid,  sir,"  he  said,  instinctively  turning  to 


206  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

his  employer,  "  that  I'll  have  to  start  from  the  begin- 
ning. It's  the  only  way  I  can  make  it  clear,  sir." 

"  Go  ahead,  Barker,  tell  it  in  your  own  way." 

He  proceeded  jerkily,  to  tell  of  how  he  had  taken 
the  wallet  from  the  trunk  of  the  Russian  Ambassa- 
dor. When  he  reached  that  point,  he  turned  to  the 
Professor,  imploringly : 

"  I  hope,  sir,  you  will  understand  that  my  inten- 
tions were  good,  sir." 

"  I'm  sure  of  that  Barker." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  for  your  kind  words.  I  was 
sure  you  would  understand  my  motives.  Well,  sir, 
the  trunk  went  off,  and  I  looked  for  you,  to  hand 
you  the  wallet,  thinking  it  would  be  the  end  of  your 
troubles.  But  you  were  taken  very  ill,  sir,  and  I 
was  in  a  dilemma.  I  kept  the  wallet,  waiting  for  a 
chance  to  hand  to  you  as  soon  as  I  could  see  you. 
For  safekeeping  I  placed  it  in  the  bureau  drawer  in 
my  bedroom  at  the  lodge.  Well,  sir,  this  morning 
Count  Castro  appeared,  and  insisted  upon  my  telling 
him  what  had  become  of  the  wallet.  I'm  afraid,  sir, 
that  my  manner  betrayed  me.  I  refused  to  tell  him 
anything,  but  he  went  away,  and  said  something 
about  having  you  compel  me  to  disgorge  —  disgorge 
was  the  word  he  used,  sir." 

"  He  never  came  near  me,"  commented  the  Pro- 
fessor. 


Hope  Asserts  Herself  207 

"  I  didn't  think  he  intended  to  do  so,  sir.  Well, 
about  an  hour  ago  who  should  come  to  my  house 
but  Captain  Prescott  and  Mr.  Bromley  Barnes.  I 
was  delighted  to  see  them  and  told  them  the  whole 
story.  They  assured  me  that  it  would  be  to  your 
interest  if  I  turned  the  wallet  over  to  them.  I 
thought  so,  too,  and  I  went  up  stairs  to  get  it. 
While  I  was  leaning  over  the  bureau  drawer,  taking 
it  out  some  one  jumped  on  me  from  behind.  It 
was  Count  Castro.  He  nearly  choked  me  to  death 
and  when  I  tried  to  cry  out  he  put  a  handkerchief  to 
my  face,  and  I  became  unconscious.  I  can't  tell  how 
long  I  stayed  that  way,  but  I  wakened  with  Captain 
Prescott  and  Mr.  Barnes  leaning  over  me.  The  wal- 
let was  gone,  sir.  When  we  got  out  on  the  porch  we 
found  the  dressing  gown  you  gave  me.  The  Count 
had  used  it  as  a  disguise  while  he  was  making  his 
escape." 

"  What  happened  after  that?  " 

"  Captain  Prescott  acted  like  a  wild  man,  sir,  and 
I  can't  say  that  I  blame  him.  But  Mr.  Barnes  in- 
sisted that  it  was  not  too  late  to  overtake  the  Count, 
and  the  two  of  them  jumped  into  a  plum-colored 
motor  car  —  you  know  the  one  that  Mr.  Barnes  uses, 
sir  —  and  they  went  madly  dashing  down  the  road. 
That  is  all,  sir,  except  that  I  rushed  over  here  to  tell 
you  as  soon  as  possible." 


208  *        The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

The  recital  of  this  story  left  both  of  the  hearers  in 
a  state  of  agitation.  Francis  Vernon  suddenly  re- 
gained the  use  of  his  limbs,  and  he  walked  up  and 
down  the  room  in  a  very  excitable  manner. 

"  To  think  that  I  should  have  been  helpless  while 
this  was  going  on,"  he  cried.  "  But  it  is  not  too 
late  yet,  and  I'll  show  the  rascal  that  there  is  some 
fight  left  in  the  old  man." 

Hope  was  trembling,  and  she  turned  to  her  father 
anxiously. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  Washington  —  and  I  won't 
rest  until  I  recover  the  papers  that  hound  has 
stolen." 

"But  father,"  she  pleaded,  "that  is  out  of  the 
question.  You  are  not  in  any  condition  to  travel, 
and,  besides,  you  haven't  the  faintest  idea  where  to 
look  for  him." 

"  But  I  must  go,"  he  insisted,  "  I  simply  must 
go!" 

While  he  was  talking  his  face  became  pale,  and 
he  was  forced  to  sit  down  in  a  chair  and  rest.  The 
thought  of  his  helplessness  made  him  groan. 

"  Oh !  "  he  said,  half  to  himself,  "  for  only  enough 
strength  to  carry  me  through  the  next  twenty- four 
hours!" 

A  look  of  determination  was  gathering  in  the  face 


Hope  Asserts  Herself  209 

of  Hope  Vernon.  Her  blue  eyes  were  becoming 
turbulent.  She  raised  herself  to  her  full  height. 

"  Father,"  she  declared,  "  you  shall  have  the 
strength,  and  I  will  give  it  to  you." 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  murmured,  "  what  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  I  will  be  your  other  self.  I  mean 
that  I  shall  go  to  Washington  and  do  all,  and  more, 
than  you  could  do.  I  shall  not  rest  until  this  wrong 
has  been  righted." 

He  looked  at  her  with  admiration  beaming  from 
his  eyes.  He  had  become  calmer. 

"  Spoken  like  a  true  Vernon,"  he  cried.  "  But 
perhaps  there  is  no  reason  for  either  of  us  to  do  any- 
thing for  the  present.  Prescott  and  Barnes  are  after 
the  rascal." 

"  They  will  not  get  him.  He  is  too  cunning  for 
them.  Besides,  it  is  my  duty  to  go,  because  I  am 
at  fault.  I  made  it  possible  for  that  treacherous 
Mexican  to  carry  out  his  plans.  Please  leave  it  to 
me." 

"  But  how  would  you  know  where  to  go  and  look 
for  him?" 

Her  eyes  flashed. 

"  I  shall  send  him  a  telegram  to  meet  me  in  Wash- 
ington." 

"  But,  my  dear  child,"  he  protested,  "  he  would 


210  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

pay  no  attention  to  your  message,  and  —  and  you 
have  no  right  to  do  this." 

Her  face  flushed,  and  she  looked  magnificent  in 
her  righteous  anger. 

"  You  are  mistaken.  He  has  asked  me  to  be  his 
wife.  He  has  given  me  his  address,  and  he  will 
wait  for  his  answer.  He  shall  have  it,  but  it  will 
be  the  kind  of  an  answer  he  does  not  antici- 
pate." 

Francis  Vernon  looked  haggard. 

"  Did  he  —  did  he  ask  you  — " 

"  Yes,  father,  he  had  the  effrontery  to  ask  me  to 
fly  with  him  to  his  home  in  Mexico.  I'm  sure  you 
will  honor  me  by  believing  that  I  had  no  thought  of 
doing  what  he  asked.  But  his  insolence  has  placed 
him  in  my  power.  Barker,  get  me  a  telegraph 
blank." 

"  My  child,"  pleaded  Vernon,  "  do  not  do  this. 
It  is  too  much.  I  will  not  allow  you  to  take  the 
risk." 

By  this  time  Barker  had  brought  the  blank,  and 
the  girl  hastily  scribbled  a  message.  She  handed  it 
to  the  faithful  one. 

"  Have  this  sent  at  once,"  she  ordered,  "  and  then 
get  the  car.  I  have  just  time  to  catch  the  afternoon 
train  to  Washington." 

He  left  the  room,  and  the  Professor  looked  at 


Hope  Asserts  Herself  211 

her  with  a  glance  that  combined  admiration  with 
anxiety. 

"  My  dear  Hope,"  he  said,  "  I  would  never  forgive 
myself  if  I  permitted  you  to  endanger  yourself  in 
this—" 

"  Father,"  she  said  with  a  determination  that 
would  take  no  denial,  "  I  have  thought  it  all  out  in 
these  few  minutes.  I  owe  something  to  you,  to 
Captain  Prescott,  and  to  my  country.  If  I  hesitated 
I  should  never  hold  up  my  head  again.  You  are  not 
fit  to  travel.  If  you  feel  stronger  in  the  morning 
you  can  follow  me  to  Washington.  But  I  must  go 
at  once." 

He  sank  back  in  his  chair,  too  feeble  to  protest  any 
further.  She  hurried  to  her  room  and  came  down 
in  a  few  minutes,  arrayed  for  her  journey.  At  that 
moment  Barker  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  The  car  is  ready,  Miss  Hope,"  he  announced. 

The  Professor  arose,  and  kissed  her  affection- 
ately. 

"  Good-by,  my  dear,"  he  said  in  trembling  tones, 
"  and  God  protect  you ! " 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   GOOD  SAMARITAN 

WHILE  the  events  which  have  just  been  described 
were  going  on  in  the  house  at  Idlewild,  Tommy 
Warner,  coming  down  the  stairway  leading  from 
the  editorial  rooms  of  the  Evening  Planet,  made  his 
way  out  on  to  Pennsylvania  Avenue.  He  was  very 
normal,  was  Tommy  that  afternoon,  and  his  lips 
were  puckered  in  grotesque  fashion  as  he  bravely  at- 
tempted to  whistle  a  few  bars  from  "  Over  There." 
His  face  was  even  more  cherubic  than  usual  as  he 
strolled  into  the  delightful  sunlight  of  a  perfect 
Washington  afternoon.  The  world,  with  all  of  its 
imperfections,  looked  good  to  him. 

"  Rotten  news,  Tommy,"  called  a  fellow  news- 
paper man,  passing  him  on  the  way  to  the  office. 

The  joyous  one,  for  the  first  time,  noticed  a  great 
crowd  packed  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  the  Planet 
office,  reading  the  bulletins  that  were  being  posted  on 
the  plate  glass  window  of  the  business  department. 
Such  scenes  were  not  unusual  during  the  war,  but 
there  was  something  about  the  tense  attitude  of  the 

212 


The  (2ood  Samaritan  213 

crowd  that  induced  the  cheerful  one  to  wend  his  way 
to  a  point  of  vantage  from  whence  he  was  able  to 
get  a  good  view  of  the  stenciled  sheets  of  paper. 
He  took  off  his  glasses  —  he  was  far  sighted  —  and 
twirled  them  around  on  the  end  of  their  black  string 
while  he  screwed  up  his  eyes  in  an  endeavor  to  read 
the  bulletin.  It  came  to  him  finally  in  these  dreadful 
words : 

THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN,  THE  RED  CROSS 
HOSPITAL  SHIP  WHICH  LEFT  BALTI- 
MORE ON  MONDAY,  HAS  BEEN  AT- 
TACKED AND  SUNK  BY  A  GERMAN  SUB- 
MARINE. 

Tommy  ceased  to  swing  his  glasses,  the  sunlight 
died  out  of  his  heart  and  there  rose  in  its  place  a 
manly  and  righteous  scorn  and  indignation  at  the 
barbarous  monsters  who  permitted  their  assassins 
of  the  sea  to  murder  even  the  white-robed  angels  of 
mercy  who  were  going  to  bind  up  the  wounds  of 
war. 

He  put  on  his  glasses  again,  but  there  was  a  sus- 
picious moisture  on  them  that  blurred  his  vision. 
As  he  was  backing  out  of  the  crowd  he  noticed  a 
man,  with  slightly  stooped  shoulders,  pause  to  read 
the  sheet  in  the  window.  There  was  something 
strangely  familiar  about  the  newcomer.  The 
smooth  face,  the  sallow  complexion,  the  dreamy  eyes 


214  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

behind  shell-rimmed  spectacles  were  all  suggestive. 
Recognition  came  in  a  flash. 

It  was  Gilbert  Vernon. 

Tommy  watched  him  as  he  glanced  at  the  bulletin. 
Vernon  looked  at  it  carelessly  enough  but  as  the  im- 
port of  the  news  sank  into  his  mind,  his  face,  always 
pale,  turned  literally  white.  He  groped  his  way  out 
of  the  crowd  like  a  blind  man.  He  swayed  to  and 
fro  and  a  grayishness  crept  into  his  countenance,  like 
one  who  has  been  stricken  with  a  mortal  illness. 
The  newspaper  man  rushed  to  his  side  and  grabbed 
him  by  the  arm.  He  looked  at  him  out  of  glazed 
eyes. 

"  Buck  up,  old  man !  "  cried  Tommy  Warner ; 
"  you'll  be  all  right  in  a  minute." 

The  words  seem  to  arouse  a  glimmer  of  recogni- 
tion in  Vernon.  He  pointed  to  the  window. 

"  Is  —  is  that  true?  "  he  said  in  a  voice  that  was 
unlike  his  own. 

Tommy  permitted  himself  to  smile. 

"If  it's  in  the  Planet  it  must  be  true,"  answered 
Warner. 

But  the  groan  from  the  other  man  banished  the 
smile  from  his  lips. 

"  My  God !  "  ejaculated  Vernon,  "  my  little  girl 
—  May  Ward  —  was  on  that  ship." 

Warner  pulled  him  away  from  the  crowd  to  the 


The  Good  Samaritan  215 

side  entrance  leading  to  the  editorial  room  of  the 
newspaper. 

"  Come  on,"  he  whispered,  "  we'll  go  upstairs  and 
find  out  all  about  it." 

Gilbert  Vernon  stumbled  into  the  elevator  and 
presently  found  himself  in  the  news  room  of  the 
Planet.  Warner  mercifully  sat  him  in  a  chair  be- 
side a  desk  that  was  screened  from  the  rest  of  the 
office.  After  that  he  made  his  way  to  the  side  of  the 
man  who  was  handling  the  news  of  the  catastrophe. 
The  pages  of  the  flimsy  paper  on  which  the  Asso- 
ciated Press  dispatch  was  typewritten  had  not  yet 
been  edited.  But  Tommy  took  it  excitedly  and  ran 
his  eye  hastily  down  the  sheets.  The  bulletin  was 
confirmed.  It  was  one  of  the  most  shocking  disas- 
ters of  the  war.  Some  members  of  the  crew  had 
been  landed  and  they  reported  that  every  one  of  the 
'nurses  had  been  drowned. 

It  was  dreadful  news  to  take  to  a  stricken  man, 
but  Warner  felt  that  there  was  no  use  beating  about 
the  bush.  Besides,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  he  had  a 
feeling  of  contempt  for  this  man  who  had  spouted 
his  theories  of  peace  in  the  face  of  the  repeated 
atrocities  of  the  enemy.  The  whole  sickening  cata- 
log rose  before  him  at  that  moment  —  the  tortured 
men,  the  murdered  children,  the  outraged  women, 
the  desecrated  churches  —  but  by  an  effort  of  the 


216  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

will  he  brushed  the  picture  aside  and  approached  the 
bent  figure  behind  the  screen. 

"  Gilbert,"  he  said  gently,  "  I'm  afraid  it's  only 
too  true.  All  have  been  lost." 

Vernon  looked  at  him  dully  for  a  moment,  and  a 
terrible  imprecation  rose  to  his  lips.  He  groaned  and 
his  head  fell  on  the  desk.  The  next  moment  his 
shoulders  began  to  heave.  Tommy  turned  away. 
The  sight  of  a  man  in  tears  offended  his  sensibilities. 
For  the  moment  he  suffered  quite  as  much  as  Gil- 
bert Vernon.  After  a  while  the  sobbing  ceased  and 
Tommy  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  the  stricken  man  lifted  his 
head.  Warner  was  startled  at  the  face  which 
looked  into  his.  In  those  few  minutes  Gilbert  Ver- 
non had  become  haggard  and  old.  It  was  a  differ- 
ent man  than  the  one  who  had  entered  the  office  a 
few  minutes  before.  The  features  were  the  same, 
although  distorted,  but  a  new  soul  seemed  to  shine 
through  his  eyes.  He  was  composed,  remarkably 
composed  for  one  who  had  gone  through  such  a 
paroxysm  of  grief.  When  he  spoke  it  was  in  a  low, 
weak  voice.  Yet  every  syllable  carried  with  it  the 
sound  of  sincerity. 

"  Warner,"  he  said,  "  I  guess  you  look  on  me  with 
contempt  and  loathing." 

"  Well,"  replied  Tommy,  struggling  between  a  de- 


The  Good  Samaritan  217 

sire  to  admit  the  truth  and  the  inclination  to  comfort 
a  man  in  trouble ;  "  I  can't  exactly  — " 

"  Never  mind,"  interrupted  the  other,  "  I  don't 
want  you  to  make  it  easy  for  me.  I  feel  as  though 
I  were  responsible  for  that  poor  girl's  death.  I  can't 
begin  to  tell  you  the  feeling  I  have  toward  myself." 

"  Now,  Gilbert,"  said  the  newspaper  man,  begin- 
ning to  entertain  a  better  feeling  toward  his  friend, 
"you  must  not  feel  that  way  about  it.  You  were 
all  wrong  about  the  war,  but  that  — " 

Vernon  laughed  harshly. 

"  All  wrong  about  the  war  ?  "  he  repeated ;  "  I've 
been  all  wrong  about  everything.  It  has  come  to 
me  like  a  flash.  This  —  this  dreadful  thing  has 
opened  my  eyes.  It  is  as  if  I  had  been  wearing  a 
bandage,  and  suddenly  some  one  pulled  it  off.  I'm 
a  little  bit  dazed,  but  I  can  see  what  a  poor,  pitiable 
fool  I've  been.  Do  you  know  what  I  feel  like  do- 
ing?" 

"  No,"  replied  Tommy,  his  good  opinion  growing 
stronger  all  the  while,  "  I  can't  even  guess." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  "  I  have  a  desire  to  kill 
myself!" 

Warner  took  him  by  the  arm  as  though  to  protect 
him  from  the  threatened  self-destruction. 

"  Never  fear,"  Vernon  cried  with  a  bitter  laugh; 
"  I  can  see  that  such  a  step  would  be  even  more  cow- 


218  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

ardly  than  my  pacifism,  and  that  was  as  yellow  as  it 
could  be.  I  only  ask  you  to  believe  one  thing,  and 
that  is  that  I  didn't  realize  what  I  was  doing. 
That's  asking  a  great  deal,  isn't  it?  But  I  see  now 
that  I  was  a  conceited  fool.  The  only  wonder  is 
that  my  Uncle  was  willing  to  bear  with  me." 

"  But  what  is  it  you  propose  doing?  "  asked  War- 
ner anxiously. 

Gilbert  looked  at  him  fixedly  for  a  moment,  then 
he  said  slowly: 

"  I'm  going  from  one  extreme  to  the  other. 
When  I  came  up  the  street  a  few  minutes  ago  I 
passed  a  stand  where  they  were  enlisting  Marines. 
It's  the  only  branch  of  the  service  open  at  present, 
and  it  has  one  big  advantage.  The  Marines  are  the 
first  to  fight.  I'm  going  to  join  them  and  ask  to  be 
sent  to  France  at  once." 

Tommy's  changing  opinion  of  Vernon  had  now 
reached  the  point  where  it  was  positive  admiration. 

"  Now  you're  talking  like  a  man !  "  he  exclaimed, 
"  but  how  do  you  know  you  can  pass  the  physical 
examination?  " 

"  That's  up  to  you,  Tommy  Warner,  you  know 
everybody  and  you  must  know  the  medical  examiner 
of  the  Board  that  is  enlisting  the  Marines.  See 
him,  for  God's  sake,  and  let  me  carry  out  my  plan. 


The  Good  Samaritan  219 

It  is  the  one  thing  in  my  life  that  has  been  half  de- 
cent. Please  don't  let  me  fail." 

"  But  your  eyes  —  those  glasses  ?  " 

With  an  impatient  gesture  Vernon  tore  off  his 
spectacles  with  the  horned  rims,  and  threw  them  into 
the  waste  paper  basket. 

"  My  eyes  are  not  perfect,  but  I  am  sure  they  are 
good  enough.  The  glasses  were  not  exactly  an 
affectation  because  my  sight  really  needed  correct- 
ing, but  I  can  and  I  will  do  without  them.  Come, 
Tommy,  go  with  me,  and  see  me  through  with  this 
business.  I'm  never  going  to  look  any  of  my 
friends  in  the  face  again  until  I've  had  a  chance  to 
redeem  myself.  This  is  my  only  hope,  and  if  I  don't 
make  it  I'll  not  be  responsible  for  what  happens  to 
me.  Will  you  go  with  me?  " 

"  You  can  just  bet  your  life  I  will,"  cried  the 
cherubic  one,  in  his  joy  swinging  his  eye  glasses 
from  the  end  of  the  black  string  in  the  old  devil-may- 
care  fashion;  "  I'll  go  with  you,  and  I'll  consider  it  a 
privilege." 

Gilbert  shivered. 

"  Don't  say  that,"  he  pleaded;  "  if  you  only  real- 
ized how  rotten  I  feel  about  myself  you  wouldn't 
rub  it  in  in  that  style." 

Without  any  further  words  they  left  the  Planet 
building  and  made  their  way  into  Pennsylvania  Ave- 


220  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

nue.  The  crowd  was  still  clustered  around  the  win- 
dow of  the  newspaper  office,  reading  the  bulletins, 
and  the  sight  caused  a  spasm  of  pain  to  contort  the 
face  of  the  penitent  pacifist.  They  hurried  along 
the  thoroughfare  until  they  reached  the  front  of 
the  post  office  building.  A  stand  had  been  erected 
there,  and  a  quartette  was  singing  "  Keep  the  Home 
Fires  Burning."  Tommy  and  Gilbert  waited  pa- 
tiently until  the  vocal  exercises  were  ended.  Then 
a  strapping  fellow  in  uniform  began  to  urge  the  men 
in  the  crowd  to  enlist.  Vernon  held  up  his  hand, 
and  before  he  knew  it  he  had  been  pulled  up  to  the 
platform  by  the  side  of  the  speaker.  The  orator 
pointed  to  him  proudly. 

"  Look  at  this  fine  man,"  he  cried ;  "  he  is  willing 
to  make  the  sacrifice  of  fighting  for  liberty  and  civ- 
ilization. He  is  going  to  show  the  Huns  that  they 
cannot  act  like  barbarians  and  continue  to  exist. 
He  is  going  to  revenge  the  sinking  of  the  Good  Sa- 
maritan. He — " 

A  shiver  went  up  and  down  the  spinal  column  of 
the  recruit.  He  grasped  the  speaker  by  the  arm. 

"  I  can't  stand  that,"  he  said  thickly,  "I  —  I  had 
a  friend  on  that  ship.  Please  send  me  where  I  can 
be  examined  and  take  the  oath  at  once." 

"  Sure,"  was  the  ready  response,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment Gilbert,  followed  by  Warner,  found  himself  be- 


The  Good  Samaritan  221 

ing  escorted  to  a  little  office  where  he  was  examined 
physically. 

"  Fm  not  sure  about  your  eyes,"  hesitated  the 
medical  man. 

"  See  here,  Doc,"  cried  Tommy,  coming  forward, 
"  there  isn't  a  thing  the  matter  with  his  eyes.  I 
know  him,  and  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about." 

"  Oh,  hello,  Tommy !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor  with 
a  glance  of  friendly  recognition,  "  I'm  glad  to  see 
you." 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  too,"  was  the  honest  enough 
reply,  "  but  my  friend's  all  right,  isn't  he  ?  " 

The  physician  quickly  caught  the  note  of  signifi- 
cance in  the  words. 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  hearty  response;  "  I'm  sure 
he  will  make  a  good  soldier." 

It  did  not  take  long  after  that  to  arrange  the  other 
details.  It  was  found  that  a  transport,  filled  with 
Marines,  was  to  leave  Baltimore  that  night.  The 
training,  it  was  explained,  would  take  place  on  the 
other  side.  Time  tables  were  consulted,  and  they 
showed  that  a  train  was  to  start  for  Baltimore  in  an 
hour. 

"  Gilbert,"  said  Tommy,  "  you'll  just  have  time  to 
take  a  hurried  dinner  with  me." 

Vernon  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  I  couldn't  eat  a  bite  —  not  if  I  were  paid  for  it. 


222  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

But  I'd  like  to  have  a  talk  with  you.  I've  got  some- 
thing on  my  mind.  Maybe  after  that  you  may  not 
let  me  go." 

Warner  looked  at  him  with  unfeigned  amaze- 
ment. 

"  Come  down  to  the  office.  We'll  go  to  my  room 
where  we  won't  be  disturbed." 

They  hastened  down  the  avenue  again.  As  they 
passed  the  recruiting  stand  of  the  Marines  the  orator 
was  in  full  swing  again. 

"  You  saw  the  fine  looking  man  who  came  up  to 
the  platform  a  little  while  ago,"  he  thundered ;  "  well, 
he  had  a  relative  on  the  Good  Samaritan.  That's 
why  he  enlisted.  And  that's  why  hundreds  of  other 
red-blooded  Americans  are  going  to  do  the  same 
thing.  Come  along  now,  this  is  your  chance." 

Even  while  he  spoke  a  dozen  young  men  walked 
up  the  steps  of  the  stand,  and  asked  to  be  enlisted. 
The  talker  was  jubilant. 

"  You  see,  my  friends,"  he  cried,  "  the  power  of 
good  example !  " 

Tommy  Warner  quietly  nudged  Gilbert  Vernon. 

"That  should  make  you  happy,"  he  whispered; 
"  you  are  really  doing  something  for  your  country." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

GILBERT   TELLS    HIS    STORY 

ONCE  back  in  the  office  of  the  Planet,  the  young 
newspaper  man  devoted  himself  to  the  task  of  pac- 
ifying his  friend.  Gilbert  was  still  unnerved,  and 
at  intervals  there  came  into  his  eyes  a  look  that  ter- 
rified the  urbane  Warner.  He  managed  to  find  a 
little  room  that  was  unoccupied,  and  he  seated  Ver- 
non  in  an  arm  chair  and  presented  him  with  a  ciga- 
rette. He  accepted  it  mechanically,  and  even  lit  it, 
but  presently  it  slipped  from  his  lips  and  he  ground 
it  under  foot  with  the  heel  of  his  shoe. 

"  Tommy,"  he  began,  with  a  half  groan,  "  I  don't 
know  where  to  begin  my  story,  but  some  one  must 
hear  it,  and  you  are  fated  to  be  that  one.  It  runs 
back,  not  to  the  beginning  of  the  war,  but  before  that 
event.  I  began  to  moon  over  the  wrongs  of  the 
human  race,  and  the  first  thing  I  knew  I  found  my- 
self associating  with  Socialists.  Their  theories 
were  very  alluring  to  my  callow  brain.  From  the 
standpoint  of  what  should  be  done  they  sounded 
very  promising,  even  though  my  intelligence  told  me 

223 


224  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

that  they  were  not  practical  and  that  they  could  never 
be  put  in  successful  operation.  You  must  make 
allowances  for  my  mental  condition.  All  that  I  — " 

"  I  understand  you  perfectly,"  interrupted 
Tommy ;  "  you  are  not  the  first  good  man  who  has 
been  wrecked  on  the  rocks  of  theory." 

"  Well,"  continued  Gilbert,  "  when  the  war  started 
I  fed  myself  on  their  infernal  literature,  and  I  was 
obsessed  with  the  notion  that  a  pacifist  was  a  greater 
man  than  a  patriot.  I  preached  this  night  and  day, 
but  when  the  United  States  entered  the  war  I  found 
myself  in  a  dilemma.  Most  of  my  Socialistic 
friends  managed  to  talk  in  a  way  that  kept  them 
within  the  pale  of  the  law,  but  I'm  afraid  that  I  was 
not  so  dexterous.  You  know  how  I  acted  and  talked 
when  you  all  came  down  to  Idlewild  on  that  week- 
end trip.  I  made  a  perfect  fool  of  myself,  and  I 
wonder  that  you  all  treated  me  with  so  much  con- 
sideration. I  might  have  known  that  it  was  on  ac- 
count of  my  uncle  whose  loyalty  has  never  been  ques- 
tioned. The  crudest  part  of  the  business  was  the 
impression  my  silly  words  had  on  poor  May." 

At  the  mention  of  the  name  of  the  gentle  little 
martyr  of  the  Good  Samaritan,  Gilbert  choked  up, 
and  was  unable  to  proceed  for  a  few  minutes. 

"  I  was  at  my  worst  on  that  occasion,"  he  pro- 
ceeded, "  and  the  cause  of  it  was  Count  Castro.  I 


Gilbert  Tells  His  Story  225 

fell  into  his  clutches  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  through 
him  I  was  induced  to  join  an  organization  known  as 
The  Custodians  of  Liberty.  The  avowed  purpose 
of  this  society  was  to  win  the  war  by  peaceful  means 
—  imagine  such  a  thing  with  the  brutal  Huns  as  our 
opponents.  Anyhow,  they  fooled  me,  although  I 
can  see  now  that  it  was  pro-German  to  the  backbone. 
The  devilish  South  American  has  great  persuasive 
powers,  and  he  worked  on  me  at  his  sweet  will.  I 
acknowledge  this  with  humiliation.  There  is  no  use 
trying  to  gloss  over  my  own  weakness,  when  it  is 
the  explanation  of  the  whole  nasty  business.  He 
assured  me  that  I  had  been  sent  to  him  as  the  instru- 
ment that  was  to  save  the  world  from  destruction. 
I  swallowed  it  all  without  making  a  face.  Looking 
back  on  the  business  now  I  can  see  that  he  had  a 
double  purpose  in  using  me.  In  the  first  place  he 
was  helping  Germany  and  — " 

"  But,"  protested  the  newspaper  man,  "  I  thought 
that  he  was  supposed  to  be  working  for  the  United 
States  Government  through  Professor  Vernon." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  the  other ;  "  that  is  where  the 
damnable  part  of  it  comes  into  play.  He  really  had 
executed  a  commission  for  my  uncle  for  which  he 
was  to  be  well  paid,  but  at  the  last  minute  he  discov- 
ered that  it  would  pay  him  better  to  betray  the  man 
at  whose  table  he  was  eating.  I  did  not  know  this 


226  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

until  a  little  while  ago.  Even  now  I'm  unaware  of 
the  exact  nature  of  the  scheme.  I  had  reached  the 
stage  where  I  was  prepared  to  tell  everything.  I 
felt  it  in  my  heart  that  I  had  only  been  a  catspaw. 
I  was  wondering  how  I  should  go  about  it  when  I 
came  to  the  office  of  the  Planet,  and  read  this  hor- 
rible announcement." 

It  looked  as  if  he  was  going  to  break  down  again, 
but  Tommy  took  him  by  the  hands  soothingly. 

"  Now,  now,  don't  get  off  the  track.  You've  said 
a  great  deal,  but  you  really  haven't  told  me  what 
you  did  on  the  first  night  of  the  house  party." 

"  That's  right,"  murmured  Gilbert,  rubbing  his 
hand  across  his  forehead  and  dreamily  gazing  into 
space.  "  That's  right,  I  haven't  told  you  that. 
"  Maybe,"  he  added,  with  a  wry  smile,  "  it  is  because 
I  am  not  proud  of  what  I  did.  Well,  at  all  events, 
you  may  remember  that  our  house  was  shrouded  in 
mystery,  that  nearly  every  one  was  ill  at  ease." 

"  I  remember  that  very  distinctly." 

"  Well,  I  can  say  that  Castro  was  largely  respon- 
sible for  creating  this  atmosphere  around  the  house. 
He  was  anxious  to  direct  the  hand  of  suspicion 
against  nearly  every  one  in  the  house." 

"  Well,"  commented  Tommy,  philosophically,  "  I 
may  say  that  he  was  fairly  successful  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned.  I've  heard,  through  the  faithful  Barker, 


Gilbert  Tells  His  Story  227 

that  my  midnight  trip  down  to  the  living-room  made 
me  a  subject  of  scrutiny  on  the  part  of  the  investi- 
gators. As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  wasn't  able  to  sleep 
and  I  went  down  stairs  to  get  a  book  that  I  had  been 
reading  early  in  the  evening.  I  may  assure  you  in 
confidence,  that  the  book  didn't  accomplish  the  in- 
tended purpose.  It  kept  me  awake." 

Gilbert  almost  smiled  at  this  witticism  —  but  not 
quite. 

"  As  I  was  saying,  the  man  tried  to  arrange  things 
so  that  we  would  be  set  against  one  another.  He 
told  me  that  Captain  Prescott  had  brought  from 
Washington  a  document  which,  if  it  was  signed  by 
the  powers,  would  keep  the  world  involved  in  war 
for  at  least  five  years  longer.  He  said  it  had  been 
prepared  by  the  bloody  shirt  men  of  the  Allies,  and 
that  it  really  and  truly  meant  the  destruction  of  civ- 
ilization. On  the  other  hand,  he  said  that  if  this 
paper  could  be  abstracted,  and  held  for  twenty-four 
hours,  that  act  would  insure  peace  to  a  world  that 
was  war-weary.  Don't  look  at  me  in  that  way, 
Warner,  I'm  willing  to  confess  that  he  gulled  me  to 
the  Queen's  taste." 

"  Things  were  getting  warm,"  observed  the  news- 
paper man. 

"  They  were,  with  a  vengeance.  Now,  I  come  to 
the  heart  of  the  business.  He  told  me  that  the  doc- 


228  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

ument,  which  was  in  a  green  wallet  belonging  to 
Uncle,  had  been  placed  in  the  walnut  cabinet  in  his 
little  study.  Then  came  his  proposition,  which,  for 
a  moment,  stunned  me. 

"  He  asked  me  to  steal  the  green  wallet,  and  to 
turn  it  over  to  him. 

"  I  refused  —  please  put  that  down  to  my  credit 
—  I  absolutely  refused.  He  seemed  to  expect  that, 
and  he  started  in  and  gave  me  a  line  of  argument 
which  finally  won  my  consent.  I  am  not  exaggerat- 
ing when  I  say  that  that  devil  had  almost  mesmeric 
power  over  me.  I  offer  this,  not  as  an  excuse,  but  as 
an  explanation  of  what  I  did.  I  tried  to  combat  his 
arguments.  I  spoke  of  the  damage  which  might  be 
done  to  my  uncle,  but  he  swept  that  away  with  a 
magnificent  flourish  of  the  arm.  He  said  that  Pro- 
fessor Vernon  would  be  held  absolutely  harmless  in 
the  matter,  and  that  if  any  one  would  suffer  it  would 
be  Captain  Prescott.  That  was  the  last  straw  to 
break  my  feeble  back.  I  had  acquired  a  dislike  to 
Captain  Prescott,  because  he  stood  for  the  very  op- 
posite of  what  I  was  preaching  in  the  war.  I  con- 
fess that  I  was  so  mean  and  ignoble  as  to  grasp  at 
the  chance  to  do  him  an  injury." 

"  Then  what  happened  ?  "  asked  Warner. 

"  Well,  after  that  we  debated  ways  and  means  of 
getting  the  wallet  without  attracting  any  attention. 


Gilbert  Tells  His  Story  229 

Castro  had  seen  Uncle  and  Captain  Prescott  place  it 
in  the  walnut  cabinet.  Now,  I  knew  that  it  was  the 
habit  of  Uncle  to  carry  the  key  to  that  cabinet  in  the 
pocket  of  his  smoking  jacket.  He  used  to  joke  over 
the  fact  that  he  kept  his  choice  liquors  there,  and  to 
say  that  in  self-defense  he  always  had  to  carry  the 
key.  I  know  Francis  Vernon  like  a  book.  I  knew 
how  careless  he  was  in  the  little  things  of  life.  Like 
most  men  of  great  intellect  it  was  really  dangerous 
to  let  him  go  at  large.  Knowing  all  of  this  I  knew, 
instinctively,  that  when  the  time  came  to  dress  for 
dinner  he  would  go  to  his  room,  throw  off  his  jacket 
and  put  on  his  dinner  clothes.  It  was  decided  that 
I  should  take  the  first  opportunity  of  going  after  the 
key." 

"And  it  came?" 

"  Yes,  sooner  than  I  anticipated.  We  all  went  to 
the  table,  as  you  will  recall.  The  first  thing  I  knew 
we  were  engaged  in  an  ugly  discussion  of  pacifism. 
I  was  really  angry,  especially  at  Captain  Prescott. 
It  gave  me  the  opportunity  I  sought.  I  left  the  table 
in  a  huff,  and  the  moment  I  reached  the  living-room 
I  went  up  stairs  to  Uncle's  apartment.  The  smok- 
ing jacket  was  there,  and  I  got  the  key  without  the 
slightest  difficulty.  After  I  quit  the  table  Count 
Castro  followed  me  out  on  the  pretext  of  pacifying 
me.  He  reached  the  little  room  just  as  I  was  open- 


230  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

ing  the  cabinet,  and  I  handed  him  the  green  wallet. 
He  was  delighted  to  get  it  so  quickly,  but  after  it  was 
placed  in  his  possession  a  new  problem  arose.  How 
was  it  to  be  taken  out  of  the  house?  He  knew  that 
we  had  two  detectives  in  the  place,  and  he  knew  that 
they  would  institute  a  careful  search.  He  could  not 
afford  to  leave  himself  because  that  would  be  the 
means  of  branding  him  as  the  thief.  In  the  end, 
after  the  cabinet  had  been  locked  and  the  key  re- 
turned to  the  smoking  jacket  of  Francis  Vernon,  it 
was  decided  that  the  green  wallet  should  be  placed  in 
the  trunk  of  the  Russian  Ambassador.  The  Count 
arranged  all  of  the  details  for  this  scheme.  An  ex- 
pressman with  a  forged  order  for  the  trunk  was  to 
meet  it  when  it  reached  the  station  in  Washington. 
Now  I've  told  you  the  whole  story,  and  if  I  say  that 
I  feel  mean  and  cheap  you'll  probably  agree  with  me. 
But  please  always  remember  that  I  foolishly  thought 
I  was  doing  something  for  humanity." 

"  Instead  of  which,"  commented  Tommy,  "  you 
were  placing  Francis  Vernon  in  a  position  where  his 
loyalty  might  be  questioned,  and  you  were  imper- 
iling the  success  of  the  United  States  in  this  war." 

"  Do  you  think  that  is  a  fact  ?  "  asked  Gilbert 
eagerly. 

"  There  isn't  any  doubt  about  it.  I'm  not  in  pos- 
session of  all  the  inside  dope,  but  I  know  enough  to 


Gilbert  Tells  His  Story  231 

say  that  Count  Castro  was  using  you  to  strike  a 
deadly  blow  at  this  country." 

Vernon  bowed  his  head  lower.  When  he  looked 
up  it  was  to  say  in  a  low  voice : 

"  I  was  afraid  of  that,  and  it  was  the  reason  I 
wanted  you  to  hear  this  story.  Things  became  so 
complicated  at  the  house  that  I  was  in  danger  of  los- 
ing my  reason.  In  some  peculiar  way  my  cousin, 
Hope,  got  mixed  up  in  the  affair.  After  the  guests 
came  out  of  the  dining-room  that  night,  Castro  took 
Hope  aside  and  talked  to  her  very  earnestly.  I  do 
not  know  what  he  said  to  her,  but  I  do  know  that  a 
look  of  horror  spread  over  her  face,  and  that  a  few 
minutes  later  she  had  a  stormy  interview  with  Cap- 
tain Prescott." 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Tommy,  suddenly  turning  the 
conversation,  "  I  think  you  told  me  you  were  a  full- 
fledged  member  of  this  organization  you  called  the 
—  the—" 

"The  Custodians  of  Liberty,"  Gilbert  reminded 
him. 

"  Yes,"  nodded  Tommy,  "  that  was  it.  The  Cus- 
todians of  Liberty.  It  goes  to  show  what  crimes  are 
committed  in  the  name  of  Liberty  when  a  bunch  of 
traitors  may  organize  under  that  name.  Well,  I 
suppose  that  you  have  something  to  show  that  you 
are  entitled  to  membership  in  the  concern  ?  " 


232  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  a  card  here  which  must  be  shown 
in  order  to  be  admitted  to  any  of  the  meetings.  It 
also  entitles  me  to  bring  a  friend  into  any  of  the 
gatherings.  I'm  supposed  to  vouch  for  the  friend 
that  comes  with  me.  It's  a  sort  of  propaganda  idea 
to  increase  the  membership." 

Warner  took  the  card  that  was  handed  to  him,  and 
examined  it  closely. 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  get  into  any  of  their  meet- 
ings with  this  card?  "  he  asked  after  awhile. 

"  Without  a  doubt,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "  I'm 
only  known  personally  to  a  few  of  the  members. 
The  doortender  is  changed  frequently,  and  I  don't 
think  you'd  have  any  difficulty  in  passing  him." 

Tommy's  eyes  sparkled  with  interest. 

"  That  means  I  could  get  in  and  take  a  friend  with 
me?" 

"  That's  what  it  means." 

"  When  is  the  next  meeting  ?  " 

"To-night,  at  Freedom  Hall." 

Tommy  Warner  gave  a  sigh  of  delight. 

"  Ever  since  this  war  started,"  he  confessed,  "  I've 
wanted  to  get  a  big  beat  for  my  paper,  and  now  near 
the  end  you've  put  me  on  the  biggest  thing  of  the 
year." 

"  There's  some  risk  —  if  you're  discovered," 
warned  Gilbert. 


Gilbert  Tells  His  Story  233 

"  Leave  that  to  me,"  laughed  Tommy;  "  I'm  will- 
ing to  risk  anything  —  even  my  life  —  if  I  can  pull 
off  a  thing  as  big  as  this  looks  to  me." 

"  Tommy,"  said  Gilbert,  "  I've  made  a  clean 
breast  of  this  whole  business  to  you,  and  you  can 
guess  that  I  haven't  relished  the  job.  Now,  if  you 
feel  that  Prescott,  or  Barnes  or  my  uncle  should 
know  these  facts  you  are  at  liberty  to  tell  them.  I 
haven't  the  heart  to  go  over  the  thing  twice,  but  I 
leave  myself  entirely  in  your  hands." 

Warner  looked  serious  —  very  serious  for  such  a 
merry  man. 

"  Gilbert,"  he  replied,  "  you've  given  me  a  very 
hard  task,  but  I'll  think  it  over  and  do  what  I  con- 
sider best  for  all  concerned." 

Vernon  reached  over  and  grasped  the  hand  of  the 
cherubic  one,  and  wrung  it  warmly. 

"  You're  a  friend  in  need,  old  fellow,"  he  said  in 
a  voice  that  trembled  with  emotion,  "  and  I  assure 
you  that  I  will  remember  you  until  the  day  of  my 
death." 

"  Forget  it,  forget  it !  "  exclaimed  Tommy  warmly. 

"  There  is  one  other  thing  I  want  to  ask  you.  It 
must  be  evident  from  what  I  have  told  you  that  I 
can  be  arrested  under  the  espionage  laws.  I'm  sure 
that  if  all  the  circumstances  were  brought  out  in 
court  that  I  would  be  convicted  by  any  American 


234  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

jury.  Now,  if  needs  be,  I'm  ready  to  take  my  medi- 
cine. I  want  to  go  with  the  Marines,  but  I'll  stay 
home  and  give  myself  up  if  you  say  the  word." 

Tommy  glanced  at  his  friend  in  a  curious  way. 
He  pulled  out  his  watch  and  noted  the  time. 

"  Come  on,"  he  said,  "  come  with  me." 

They  left  the  building  and  walking  rapidly  down 
the  avenue,  finally  turned  into  the  railroad  station. 
The  conductor  was  calling  "  All  aboard  for  Balti- 
more !  "  Tommy  gave  Gilbert  a  push  and  sent  him 
into  the  last  car. 

"  That's  my  answer !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  make  good, 
and  I'll  be  proud  of  you." 

Gilbert  stood  on  the  rear  platform  of  the  car  as 
the  train  pulled  out  of  the  station,  while  Tommy 
Warner  waved  a  large  and  picturesque  handkerchief 
in  the  direction  of  the  prodigal  one. 

There  is  no  way  of  proving  it,  of  course,  but  an 
attendant  who  stood  near  by  said  that  a  troublesome 
lump  arose  in  Tommy's  throat,  and  that  his  eyes 
were  misty  with  tears. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

STRATEGY   AND   THE   WOMAN 

TOMMY  WARNER  returned  to  his  room  in  the 
Planet  building  with  the  feeling  of  a  man  who  has 
done  a  good  day's  work.  He  was  sure  he  had  done 
the  right  thing,  and  the  rehabilitation  of  the  man- 
hood of  Gilbert  Vernon  gave  him  immense  satis- 
faction. He  liked  all  of  the  Vernons,  and  was  de- 
lighted to  think  that  the  one  black  sheep  in  the  flock 
had  changed  color.  He  lit  a  cigarette,  lay  back  in 
his  arm  chair,  with  his  feet  on  the  desk,  and  sent 
circles  of  smoke  curling  through  the  air.  He  had 
that  curious  and  comfortable  feeling  of  complete 
luxury  which  comes  to  a  busy  man  when  he  has  fin- 
ished his  labors  and  has  nothing  on  his  mind.  But 
in  the  midst  of  it  the  telephone  bell  at  his  elbow  be- 
gan to  tinkle.  He  picked  up  the  receiver : 

"  Hello,"  he  called,  none  too  cheerfully,  "  this  is 
Mr.  Warner,  the  Planet  office." 

"  Oh,  Tommy,"  responded  a  sweetly  feminine 
voice.  "  I'm  so  glad  I  found  you  so  easily.  This  is 
Hope  Vernon,  and  I'm  at  the  Willard,  and  I  want 

235 


236  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

you  to  come  and  see  me  this  very  minute.  No,  no 
explanations,  just  come,  and  I'll  make  everything 
clear  in  a  jiffy." 

Warner  promised,  of  course,  but  he  hung  up  the 
receiver  mechanically  and  gazed  about  him  dazedly. 
What  could  Hope  Vernon  be  doing  at  the  Willard? 
And  why  did  she  want  him  to  see  her?  The  Ver- 
non family  had  been  turning  all  of  his  pre-con- 
ceived  notions  topsy-turvy.  Until  this  episode  of 
the  stolen  wallet  they  had  seemed  as  fixed  and  un- 
changeable as  the  Capitol  itself,  but  now  all  of  that 
was  changed.  The  Professor  was  different,  Gilbert 
had  appeared  in  a  new  guise,  and  now  Hope  was 
possibly  going  to  give  him  a  fresh  shock.  But  he 
resolved  to  go  prepared  for  the  worst.  He  felt,  in- 
stinctively, that  her  visit  was  related  in  some  way  to 
the  incident  which  had  broken  up  the  house  party  at 
Idlewild.  He  closed  his  desk,  and  made  his  way  to 
the  hotel.  A  minute  after  he  had  presented  his  card 
at  the  office  he  was  directed  to  go  to  her  apartment 
on  the  second  floor.  When  he  reached  there  he 
found  her  at  the  door  of  the  room,  greeting  him 
with  a  smile. 

"I  felt  certain  you  wouldn't  fail  me,  Tommy!" 
she  exclaimed. 

"  Fail  you !  "  echoed  the  cherubic  one  with  his 
most  winning  expression.  "  Why,  I'd  have  found 


Strategy  and  the  Woman  237 

my  way  to  you  if  it  had  taken  a  flying  machine !  " 

The  lights  had  been  turned  on  to  relieve  the  gloom 
of  the  early  evening,  and  as  they  entered  the  room 
together  he  noticed  that  behind  the  mask  of  assumed 
cheerfulness  there  was  trouble  and  anxiety. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  assuming  a  business-like  air, 
"  what's  on  your  mind  ?  " 

She  flushed,  and  then  exclaimed  with  vehemence. 

"  Tommy,  I've  made  a  fool  of  myself  —  I've 
caused  no  end  of  trouble  to  innocent  people  and  I've 
come  to  Washington  in  the  hope  that  I  may  be  able 
to  repair  the  damage." 

Warner  stared  at  her  out  of  wide-open  eyes.  He 
wondered  if  this  were  hysteria.  He  managed  to 
smile. 

"  Well,  when  it  comes  to  repairing  damage,  I'm 
somewhat  of  a  cobbler  myself.  Maybe  I  can  be  of 
service  to  you." 

"  I'm  hoping  you  may  be,"  she  said,  "  but,  pos- 
sibly, after  you've  heard  my  confession — " 

"  Good  Lord !  "  he  interrupted,  with  a  groan,  "  is 
this  to  be  another  confession?  " 

"  Another?  "  she  flashed  back  at  him.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  have  had  one  ?  " 

He  was  about  to  reply  when  something  in  the  ex- 
pression of  her  eyes  made  him  pause. 

"  Have  you  had  dinner  yet?  "  he  asked. 


238  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  but  that  doesn't  make  any 
difference." 

"  Yes,  it  does,"  he  retorted  stubbornly,  "  it  makes 
a  heap  of  difference.  It's  quite  evident  that  we  have 
a  great  deal  to  say  to  one  another.  I  know  of  a  de- 
lightful little  restaurant  near  here  where  we  can  get 
a  quiet  corner  and  talk  to  our  hearts'  content.  So 
hurry  along,  make  yourself  look  pretty  and  we'll 
have  a  real  old-fashioned  chat." 

She  paused  for  a  moment,  irresolute. 

"  It's  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to  be  at  the  hotel 
at  nine  o'clock." 

He  laughed  gayly. 

"  You've  got  nothing  on  me.  I  must  be  at  the 
office  at  eight  o'clock,  or  run  the  risk  of  missing  the 
biggest  news  scoop  since  the  war  began." 

"  Very  well,"  she  agreed,  "  I'll  only  keep  you  a 
few  minutes." 

He  waited  in  the  reception  hall  while  she  retired 
to  the  bedroom  and  made  herself  presentable.  Ten 
minutes  later  they  were  in  the  cozy  corner  of  a  par- 
ticularly comfortable  cafe  with  Tommy  ordering  a 
dinner  with  that  discrimination  which  had  won  him 
a  reputation  as  one  of  the  bon  vivants  of  the  Na- 
tional Capital.  The  lights  and  the  music  and  the 
shaded  candles  on  the  table  between  them  had  the 
effect  of  restoring  her  composure.  He  declined  to 


Strategy  and  the  Woman  239 

permit  her  to  say  anything  of  the  business  that  had 
brought  her  to  Washington  until  she  had  made  the 
pretense  of  doing  justice  to  the  meal.  Finally, 
pushing  the  dishes  to  one  side,  he  leaned  over  and 
said  seriously: 

"  Now,  Hope,  before  you  tell  me  your  story,  I 
wish  to  let  you  know  of  a  very  remarkable  experi- 
ence I  have  had  this  afternoon  with  a  person  in 
whom  you  are  deeply  interested." 

Then,  without  further  preliminaries,  he  related 
the  incident  of  the  Good  Samaritan,  his  meeting  with 
Gilbert  Vernon  and  of  the  remarkable  confession  of 
that  young  man. 

Hope  sat  through  this  story  with  amazing  forti- 
tude. It  was  such  a  story  as  might  have  stirred  the 
emotions  of  a  stranger,  much  less  those  of  an  actual 
participant  in  the  little  drama.  The  description  of 
the  death  of  May  Ward  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of 
the  girl,  and  the  tale  of  Gilbert  Vernon's  duplicity 
toward  his  uncle,  and  then  his  heroic  change  of 
character,  caused  her  alternately  to  feel  waves  of 
mental  depression  and  exaltation.  She  listened  with 
intense  attention,  gripping  her  napkin  between 
clenched  fingers  as  Tommy  Warner  went  over  the 
details  with  painful  accuracy,  and  yet  with  an  elo- 
quence which  lifted  the  mere  telling  of  the  story 
away  beyond  the  commonplace.  At  one  time  it 


240  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

looked  as  if  Hope  might  faint,  but  he  urged  her  to 
take  a  sip  of  wine,  and  presently  the  color  returned 
to  her  cheeks  and  she  became  normal  again. 

"  Now,"  concluded  Tommy,  "  you  know  as  much 
as  I  do.  Gilbert  left  it  entirely  to  my  discretion 
whether  any  part  of  the  tale  should  be  told,  and  I 
felt,  instinctively  that  you  were  entitled  to  all  of 
these  details.  I  am  sure  that  you  will  give  him  the 
benefit  of  your  charity.  It  is  impossible  to  justify 
his  action  at  Idlewild,  but  I  am  sure  that  his  desire  to 
prove  his  manhood  will  lift  him  up  in  your  estima- 
tion." 

Hope  nodded  sadly. 

"  Poor  Gilbert,"  she  sighed,  "'he  has  made  a  ter- 
rible mistake,  but  who  shall  say  that  he  is  alone  in 
this  respect.  I'm  afraid  that  I'm  as  much  to  blame 
in  this  matter  as  that  poor,  deluded  boy." 

"  I'm  sure  you're  nothing  of  the  kind !  "  cried 
Tommy,  with  hot  loyalty. 

She  smiled  at  him  with  grateful  eyes,  but  he  could 
see  beyond  the  smile  the  depth  of  suffering  she  had 
plumbed. 

"  It's  like  you  to  say  that,  but  maybe  after  you 
have  heard  my  story  you  may  have  a  different  feel- 
ing. I  am  glad  to  have  heard  yours  first,  because 
it  clears  the  way  for  what  I  have  to  tell.  It  explains 
some  things  that  were  not  quite  clear  to  me,  and  it 


241 


helps  to  furnish  an  explanation  of  the  mad  thing  of 
which  I  was  guilty." 

She  paused  for  some  moments,  as  though  gather- 
ing her  thoughts  together.  When  she  spoke  it  was 
in  clear  tones,  and  without  hesitation. 

"  I  think  I  was  the  happiest  girl  in  the  world  the 
night  Captain  Prescott  came  to  Idlewild,"  she  be- 
gan, "  I  know  that  I  can  be  perfectly  honest  in  talk- 
ing to  you,  and  that  is  why  I  make  a  statement  that 
I  wouldn't  dream  of  making  to  any  one  else.  I 
teased  him,  and  I'm  afraid  I  caused  him  some  un- 
happiness,  but,  back  of  it  all,  I  had  a  feeling  of  ela- 
tion in  his  presence  that  was  indescribable.  My 
hope  —  and  I  tell  it  to  you  shamelessly  —  was  that 
before  he  left  we  would  have  pledged  our  troth.  I 
realized  that  Captain  Prescott  was  jealous,  and  I 
was  feminine  enough  —  and  foolish  enough  —  to 
pay  more  attention  than  I  should  have  to  Count  Cas- 
tro. This,  as  you  may  remember,  was  all  on  the 
first  night." 

"  In  the  morning  everything  was  changed  with  the 
announcement  of  the  disappearance  of  the  green 
wallet.  While  the  search  for  the  wallet  was  going 
on  I  learned,  to  my  horror,  that  Gilbert  was  the  cul- 
prit. I  was  told  by  Count  Castro  that  Gilbert  had 
taken  it  in  the  belief  that  he  was  serving  the  cause  of 
universal  peace.  He  really  did  not  know  the  mean- 


242  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

ing  of  the  contract  or  what  it  meant  to  the  United 
States  Government.  Neither  did  I  —  then.  Gil- 
bert has  already  explained  to  you  what  was  in  his 
mind  at  the  time.  He  never  dreamt  of  doing  a  seri- 
ous wrong  to  my  father.  But  to  come  to  my  part 
in  the  business.  Count  Castro  told  me  that  the  wal- 
let had  been  placed  in  the  trunk  of  the  Russian  Am- 
bassador. But  he  didn't  stop  at  that.  He  made  the 
deliberate  statement  that  Vance  Prescott  and  Brom- 
ley Barnes  were  in  the  house  for  the  purpose  of 
trapping  Gilbert,  and  that  they  expected  to  place  him 
under  arrest  before  they  left." 

"  Then  that  was  what  prompted  you  to  interfere," 
said  Tommy. 

"  It  was  that  and  nothing  more.  He  told  me  that 
everybody  was  to  be  searched  and  that  every  room 
in  the  house  was  to  be  ransacked,  and  that  if  the  wal- 
let was  found  in  the  Ambassador's  trunk  it  would  be 
traced  to  Gilbert  as  sure  as  fate,  and  that  nothing 
under  the  sun  would  save  Gilbert  from  a  prisoner's 
cell  and  a  long  sentence  in  the  penitentiary.  I  was 
honestly  terrified.  With  all  of  Gilbert's  faults,  I 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  having  him  come  to 
an  end  like  that.  Castro  worked  on  my  fears.  He 
presented  Captain  Prescott  as  a  tiger  who  was  after 
his  prey  and  who  would  stop  at  nothing  to  accom- 
plish his  purpose.  And  I  —  I  admit  it  with  shame 


Strategy  and  the  Woman  243 

—  I  believed  him,  and  I  think  for  the  time  being  I 
hated  Vance  Prescott.  The  trunk  of  the  Ambassa- 
dor was  in  a  small  room  from  which  an  entrance 
could  be  obtained  through  the  room  that  had  been 
occupied  by  Castro.  Vance  began  his  search.  I 
was  in  the  upper  hallway,  and  when  he  came  to  Cas- 
tro's room  I  forbade  him  to  enter.  Naturally  he  did 
not  understand  my  motive,  and  he  was  amazed.  He 
proposed  to  go  into  it  by  force,  and  it  was  then  that 
I  threw  myself  in  front  of  the  door  and  defied  him 
to  enter.  If  I  live  to  be  a  thousand  years  old  I  can 
never  forget  that  scene.  The  horror  in  his  face  is 
still  before  me.  But  I  kept  him  from  going  in,  and 
afterwards  I  collapsed." 

"  But  how  were  you  undeceived?  "  asked  Warner. 

"  That  came  this  morning.  Father  regained  con- 
sciousness, and  I  learned  for  the  first  time  the  real 
meaning  of  the  contracts  in  the  green  wallet.  I 
found  that  Castro  had  deceived  my  cousin  as  he  de- 
ceived me.  Barker  had  taken  the  wallet  out  of  the 
trunk  and  was  keeping  it  to  give  to  father.  Cap- 
tain Prescott  and  Barnes  hurried  to  Idlewild  to  get 
it,  but  Castro,  by  a  trick,  came  ahead  of  them,  got 
possession  of  it  and  then  started  for  Washington. 
Where  he  is  now  no  one  knows,  but  before  long  I 
hope  to  know.  That  is  why  I  am  here  now." 

Warner  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 


244  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  I've  already  told  you  I'm  trying  to  repair  some 
of  the  wrong  I  did.  You  know  that  Castro  has 
proposed  marriage  to  me.  He  has  gone  further 
than  this.  He  wants  me  to  fly  to  Mexico  with  him. 
Well,  I've  sent  him  a  telegram  to  meet  me  at  the 
Willard  at  nine  o'clock  to-night.  Please  do  not 
think  I  am  conceited,  but  I  am  sure  that  he  will  come 
here  to  keep  the  appointment.  That  is  all.  Once 
he  is  here  I  will  have  him  in  my  power.  I  only 
pray  that  I  have  not  been  too  late." 

Tommy  looked  at  her  with  admiration,  not  un- 
mixed with  anxiety. 

"  To  me,  it  looks  a  bit  dangerous,"  he  said.  "  I 
don't  like  the  idea  of  placing  yourself  in  the  power 
of  this  rascal.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  he 
is  without  morals  or  scruples  of  any  kind." 

"  I  know  that  perfectly  well,"  she  replied  evenly. 
"  I'm  taking  a  risk,  but  I  feel  that  the  game  is  worth 
all  it  may  cost." 

"  But  you  must  not  be  left  to  play  the  game 
alone,"  he  protested. 

"  No,"  she  conceded,  "  and  that  is  why  I  sent  for 
you." 

"  Thank  you  for  that,"  he  said  gratefully.  "  I 
feel  honored  that  you  should  have  called  on  me. 
Now  please  tell  me  just  what  you  propose  to 
do?" 


Strategy  and  the  Woman  245 

They  had  finished  the  meal.  She  looked  about 
her  with  some  little  anxiety. 

"  We  must  not  be  seen  together,"  she  said. 
"  Suppose  we  go  to  my  room  and  I'll  explain 
further." 

He  agreed  to  that,  and  as  soon  as  the  check  had 
been  settled  they  returned  to  the  hotel  and  to  her 
room  in  the  Willard. 

"  Now,"  she  explained,  "  the  most  important  thing 
of  all  is  to  get  him  to  this  room.  It  is  after  that  I 
shall  need  your  assistance.  My  idea  is  to  call  you 
on  the  'phone.  I  shall  expect  you  to  come  to  my  as- 
sistance at  once.  If  you  promise  me  that  I'll  under- 
take to  hold  him  here  until  you  arrive." 

"  But  how  can  you  telephone  while  he  is  in  the 
room?" 

"  I've  thought  that  out.  I've  got  a  little  code  of 
my  own.  I'm  going  to  pretend  to  'phone  to  my 
milliner  to  bring  me  a  hat.  Your  number,  I  under- 
stand, is  District  g^S^6-X." 

As  she  spoke  she  pulled  out  a  little  gold-headed 
pencil  and  wrote  the  number  on  a  card.  She  sighed 
pensively. 

"  This  pencil  belongs  to  poor  Gilbert.  Captain 
Prescott  found  it  on  the  floor  near  the  walnut  cab- 
inet on  the  morning  after  the  contract  disappeared. 
He  had  seen  me  with  it  the  day  before  and  assumed 


246  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

that  it  belonged  to  me.  If  the  truth  had  come  out 
then  things  might  have  been  very  serious  for  Gil- 
bert." 

Tommy  nodded  sympathetically. 

"  Quite  true.  Now,  let's  get  down  to  this  busi- 
ness. What  is  to  happen  after  I  answer  your  'phone 
call?" 

"  I'll  say,  '  Is  that  Madam  Dalzell?  '  When  you 
say  it  is  I'll  exclaim,  *  I'm  ready  for  my  hat  —  please 
send  it  at  once !  "  That  will  be  your  cue." 

"  What  time  will  you  'phone?  "  asked  Tommy. 

"  As  soon  after  nine  as  possible." 

"  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  have  an  officer 
within  call  ?  "  he  urged  anxiously. 

"  No  —  that  might  spoil  everything.  I  can't  af- 
ford to  scare  him  away.  I've  got  to  run  the  risk." 

Warner  squeezed  her  hand  fervently. 

"  Good-by  for  a  while,  Hope,"  he  said  with  unac- 
customed earnestness,  "  you're  one  girl  in  ten  thou- 
sand." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FACE  TO   FACE 

HOPE  VERNON  sat  by  the  window  of  her  room  in 
the  Willard  waiting  for  the  encounter  which  was  to 
have  an  effect,  not  only  upon  her  own  future,  but 
also  upon  the  fortunes  of  her  friends,  her  family 
and  her  country.  The  minutes  passed  slowly,  and 
she  had  an  opportunity  of  thinking  over  the  events 
which  had  resulted  in  the  adventure  which  now  con- 
fronted her.  She  could  hear  the  traffic  and  the  life 
of  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  the  voice  of  the  city  it 
might  be  called,  so  different  from  anything  she  had 
known  in  the  Washington  of  her  early  childhood. 
In  the  old  days  it  was  merely  a  drowsy  droning,  a 
sound  that  suggested  luxurious  laziness,  but  now 
there  was  an  alertness  in  the  noise,  the  buzzing  of 
many  busy  bees,  an  echo  of  the  new  Americanism 
that  was  making  Washington  the  real  center  of 
national  activity,  and  that  was  to  make  it  the  great- 
est capital  in  the  world. 

The  electric  lights  were  on  in  the  room,  but  the 
girl  sat  in  the  shadow  near  one  of  the  tall  windows 

247 


248  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

which  commanded  a  view  of  the  street.  She 
thought  a  great  deal  of  herself  during  these  passing 
minutes,  but  she  thought  a  great  deal  more  of  the 
wonderful  country  of  which  this  city  was  the  heart 
and  center.  And  she  realized  that,  to  a  great  extent, 
she  held  the  future  of  the  great  nation  in  the  hollow 
of  her  little  hand.  The  war  was  practically  over  so 
far  as  our  men  in  the  field  were  concerned.  We  had 
defeated  the  enemy  on  every  battle  front.  The  white 
flag  was  being  fluttered  —  but  solely  for  the  purposes 
of  delay.  If  the  United  States  and  its  Allies  could  be 
deprived  of  the  monopoly  of  the  Mexican  oil  fields, 
if  the  supply  of  oil  fuel  could  be  cut  off  then  the 
enemy  might  make  that  final  dash  for  liberty.  Al- 
lied victory  would  come  ultimately,  of  course,  but  if 
she  could  get  possession  of  those  precious  papers 
she  knew  that  it  would  hasten  the  beginning  of  the 
end.  Her  thoughts  resolved  themselves  into  one 
final  conclusion: 

She  would  get  possession  of  the  green  wal- 
let! 

At  that  point  in  her  meditations  she  heard  a  quick 
footstep  in  the  outside  corridor.  She  looked  up, 
and  as  she  did  so  a  man  flung  open  the  door,  and 
rushed  into  the  room.  It  did  not  need  a  second 
glance  to  tell  her  that  it  was  Count  Castro.  He  was 
disheveled,  and,  it  was  apparent,  agitated  as  well. 


Strategy  and  the  Woman  249 

She  had  never  seen  him  laboring  under  excitement 
before,  and,  on  the  instant,  it  gave  her  the  oppor- 
tunity of  regaining  her  own  self-possession.  She 
rose  to  meet  him,  and  gave  a  hasty  survey  of  the  tall, 
thin,  erect  figure,  with  his  fox-like  movements. 
Despite  his  nervousness  he  made  an  effort  to  pull 
himself  together.  The  ever  present  violet  was  in  his 
buttonhole,  and  he  gave  that  characteristic  move- 
ment of  his  thin  hand  —  reaching  for  his  chin  as 
though  to  stroke  a  beard  and  then  seeming  surprised 
at  not  finding  it.  He  did  not  see  her  at  once.  He 
screwed  his  eyes  and  looked  into  the  semi-gloom  of 
the  far  corner  of  the  room.  Presently  he  became 
aware  of  her  presence  and  his  face  lit  up  with  that 
winning  smile,  that  mixture  of  frankness  and  crafti- 
ness which  fitted  him  so  well. 

"  Hope !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  my  dear  Hope,  I'm  so 
glad  to  see  you !  " 

She  gave  a  slight  shiver  at  the  familiar  form  of 
address,  but  came  to  meet  him  with  a  smile  on  her 
face. 

"  I  see,"  she  murmured,  "  that  you  are  prompt  in 
keeping  your  engagements." 

He  grasped  her  outstretched  hand  and  kissed  it. 
He  came  closer  as  if  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  but 
by  a  quick  movement  she  escaped  his  embrace.  It 
was  enough  to  feel  his  hot  breath  on  her  hand. 


250  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

Even  that  stifled  her.  Fortunately,  he  did  not  seem 
to  notice  her  repugnance. 

"How  could  I  be  otherwise?"  he  cried  with  a 
return  to  his  old  time  gallantry.  "  It  is  not  every 
man  that  has  the  privilege  of  coming  to  claim  a  girl 
like  you." 

She  tried  to  think  rapidly  and  clearly.  She  felt 
like  an  actress  in  a  new  play  who  is  in  danger  of  for- 
getting her  lines.  She  motioned  to  a  chair  in  the 
center  of  the  room. 

"  Sit  down,"  she  said,  "  and  rest  for  awhile.  You 
look  wearied." 

He  took  the  place  she  indicated,  and  then  she 
seated  herself  on  a  divan.  He  closed  his  eyes  for  a 
moment,  and  pressed  his  finger  tips  to  them  with  a 
tired  movement.  The  next  moment  he  gave  her  an 
adoring  look. 

"  I've  been  very  busy,"  he  confessed,  "  but  it's 
worth  everything  in  the  world  to  be  able  to  come  to 
you  like  this.  I  was  afraid  that  I  was  going  to  lose 
you,  and  your  telegram  came  to  me  like  a  message 
from  Paradise." 

Hope  gazed  at  the  man  steadily.  To  his  mind 
she  was  thinking  of  the  devotion  which  prompted 
such  ardent  words.  As  a  matter  of  fact  she  was 
wondering  if  he  had  the  green  wallet  in  his  pocket 
and  whether  it  would  be  possible  for  her  to  get 


Strategy  and  the  Woman  251 

possession  of  it  by  the  use  of  a  little  strategy. 
When  she  spoke,  she  felt  half-ashamed  of  the  banal- 
ity of  her  retort. 

"  You  don't  mean  that,  Count  Castro,  you  are 
only  trying  to  flatter  me." 

"  Indeed,  I  do  mean  it,"  he  replied  with  a  warmth 
that  carried  conviction.  "  My  difficulty  is  to  express 
the  joy  your  telegram  has  brought  me." 

For  an  instant  —  and  only  for  an  instant  —  she 
felt  the  pangs  of  compunction  at  the  part  she  was 
forced  to  play. 

"  Please  don't  talk  like  that,"  she  pleaded  hon- 
estly enough,  "  because  it  distresses  me." 

He  laughed  lightly. 

"  Mademoiselle  is  new  to  the  art  of  love-making. 
And  yet  —  and  yet  she  loves  me." 

"  I  haven't  said  that  I  loved  you,"  she  exclaimed 
with  spirit. 

He  shook  his  finger  at  her  playfully. 

"  Oh,"  he  cried,  "  Hope,  you  are  coquettish  like 
all  the  members  of  your  sex.  If  you  do  not  love  me 
you  care  for  me.  Shall  I  put  it  in  that  way  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said  faintly,  "  you  may  put  it  in  that 
way." 

"  That  is  one  great  admission  from  a  woman  like 
yourself,"  he  declared,  "  and  it  is  satisfactory  to  me. 
But  you  did  not  always  feel  this  way  to  the  poor 


252  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

heart-broken  Count  Castro.  Tell  me  when  the 
change  took  place?  " 

She  moistened  her  lips  with  the  tip  of  her  tongue. 
The  ordeal  was  proving  to  be  greater  than  she  had 
anticipated. 

"  This  morning,"  she  admitted;  "  it  was  only  this 
morning  when  I  determined  to  send  you  the  tele- 
gram." 

"  And  the  cause,"  he  persisted,  "  the  cause  of  this 
change  of  heart?  " 

She  hesitated  for  many  moments. 

"  Please,"  she  said  finally,  "  please  don't  ask  me 
that  question." 

"  Some  other  man  has  disappointed  you?  "  he  sug- 
gested, a  smoldering  fire  in  his  eyes. 

"  No,"  she  answered  promptly,  "  no  other  man 
has  disappointed  me." 

He  brightened  at  once. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said  gayly,  "  the  idea  of  being  a 
Countess  has  appealed  to  your  romantic  spirit  ?  " 

She  grasped  at  the  straw  eagerly. 

"  Yes  —  that  is  to  say  —  well,  Count  Castro,  you 
know  how  a  woman  feels  about  such  things." 

He  clapped  his  hands  boyishly. 

"  My  dear,  you  need  not  apologize  for  having 
such  an  ambition.  With  me  your  standing  will  be 
of  the  highest.  I  shall  have  money  and  position, 


Face  to  Face  253 

and  it  shall  be  your  privilege  to  share  my  honors 
with  me.  But,  come,  we  are  losing  time.  We  must 
leave  here  at  once.  I  have  already  delayed  too 
long." 

But,  to  his  surprise,  she  gave  a  pout. 

"  I  am  not  ready  —  I  have  not  yet  finished  prepar- 
ing my  wardrobe." 

He  looked  alarmed. 

"  That  is  not  possible,  my  dear,  because  we  have 
not  the  facilities  for  taking  much  baggage.  For 
reasons  which  I  shall  explain  later,  we  must  go  at 
once." 

"  But  my  hat !  "  she  explained.  "  I  would  not 
dream  of  going  without  my  new  traveling  hat. 
Such  a  honeymoon  would  be  out  of  the  ques- 
tion." 

The  mention  of  the  honeymoon  restored  his  good 
spirits. 

"  We  shall  wait  a  few  minutes,"  he  agreed,  "  but 
cannot  you  hasten  the  coming  of  this  wonderful 
hat?" 

She  nodded.  It  was  the  cue  she  had  been  waiting 
for.  She  walked  over  to  the  telephone  and  picked 
up  the  receiver. 

"  District  gg8^6-X,"  she  called  evenly,  looking 
steadily  at  him  all  the  while. 

Presently  she  obtained  the  connection  she  desired. 


254f  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  I  wish  to  speak  to  Madame  Dalzell,"  she  an- 
nounced. 

There  was  a  pause  for  a  few  moments  and  after 
that  her  heart  throbbed  as  she  heard  the  re-assuring 
voice  of  Tommy  Warner  at  the  other  end  of  the 
wire. 

"  This  is  Miss  Vernon,  at  the  Willard,"  she  said. 
"  I'm  waiting  for  my  new  hat.  It  is  of  the  utmost 
importance  that  you  send  it  to  me  at  once.  You 
understand  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  came  the  response.  "  It  will  be  sent 
to  you  immediately  —  in  a  taxicab.  You  shall  not 
be  kept  more  than  five  or  ten  minutes." 

She  replaced  the  receiver  with  a  sigh  of  satisfac- 
tion. She  could  feel  the  cold  sweat  gathering  on 
her  forehead.  The  strain  was  almost  more  than 
she  could  bear.  He  noted  her  agitation. 

"  You  do  not  seem  happy,"  he  suggested,  with  just 
a  trace  of  suspicion  in  his  voice,  "  for  a  young 
woman  who  is  about  to  go  away  with  the  man  she 
loves." 

Her  eyes  flashed  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  You  must  not  put  it  in  that  way,  Count.  I  have 
not  yet  said  that  I  loved  you." 

"  You  seem  more  anxious  about  your  hat  than 
you  do  about  me,"  he  said  in  a  querulous  voice. 

"  Ah,  Count,"  she  cried  with  an  attempt  at  light- 


Face  to  Face  255 


heartedness,  "  you  do  not  understand  woman  or  you 
would  not  say  such  things." 

He  frowned. 

"  No  —  not  the  women  of  the  United  States." 

"  Yet  you  pretend  to  care  for  me,"  she  taunted. 

He  said  nothing  but  arose  and  made  one  or  two 
quick  turns  of  the  room.  She  also  arose,  and  going 
to  the  window  gazed  out  into  the  street  pensively. 
Presently  he  came  over  in  her  direction  and  placed 
his  arms  affectionately  about  her  shoulders.  The 
mere  contact  caused  a  revulsion  of  feeling.  She 
pushed  him  aside  and  stepped  beyond  his  reach.  It 
was  an  unfortunate  movement.  His  eyes  flashed 
fire,  and  with  his  quick  fox-like  movement  he  placed 
himself  between  her  and  the  door.  They  stood  fac- 
ing one  another  like  duelists.  It  was  the  man  who 
spoke  first,  and  all  of  the  softness  had  gone  from 
his  voice. 

"  Now,  Madame,"  he  cried  harshly,  "  I'd  like  you 
to  tell  me  just  exactly  "what  kind  of  a  game  you  are 
trying  to  play  with  me!" 

Hope  swayed  to  and  fro  for  a  moment.  The  at- 
tack was  so  sudden  that  it  almost  overwhelmed  her. 
But  she  managed  to  grasp  the  edge  of  the  mantel- 
piece and  steady  herself.  When  she  spoke  her  voice 
trembled. 

"  Why  —  why,  what  do  you  mean  ?     I  was  — " 


.256  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

"  You  know  very  well  what  I  mean,"  he  cried 
hotly,  "  and  you  know  why  you've  lured  me  to  this 
place.  But  you're  fooling  with  the  wrong  man. 
I've  got  you  in  my  power  now,  and  if  you  dare  to 
cry  out  or  make  the  slightest  noise  I'll  kill  you.  Do 
you  understand,  I'll  kill  you !  " 

Hope  Vernon's  face  went  white  during  this  tirade, 
but  the  very  intensity  of  the  man's  passion  gave  her 
an  opportunity  to  recover  her  poise.  She  could  feel 
the  color  coming  back  into  her  face,  and  she  felt 
herself  growing  stronger  as  the  moments  passed  by. 
She  even  dared  to  smile  in  the  face  of  the  Spanish- 
American. 

"  You  seem  to  be  afraid  of  me  —  of  poor  little 
me." 

That  roused  his  fury  to  the  murderous  point. 
His  face  became  distorted,  and  he  made  a  rush  in 
the  direction  of  the  girl.  Very  cleverly  she  man- 
aged to  elude  his  grasp  and  to  place  herself  on  the 
other  side  of  the  room. 

"  How  dare  you  mock  me !  "  he  shrieked,  losing 
his  self-control  altogether.  "  Don't  you  know  that 
you  are  trifling  with  your  life?  " 

Castro's  coat  had  been  flung  open  as  he  rushed 
across  the  room,  and  Hope  could  see  the  green  wal- 
let peering  out  from  the  inside  pocket.  If  she  could 
only  get  possession  of  that  document  it  would  more 


Face  to  Face  257 


than  repay  her  for  all  the  risk  she  had  run.  Yet  she 
realized  that  her  plans  had  been  badly  made.  She 
had  counted  on  the  return  of  Tommy  Warner.  He 
was  not  there,  and  probably  would  not  get  there  in 
time  to  be  of  any  assistance  to  her.  She  thought  to 
scream,  but  instantly  abandoned  the  idea.  It  would 
attract  help,  but  in  the  midst  of  the  noise  and  stir 
he  would  probably  escape.  While  all  of  these 
thoughts  were  racing  through  her  mind  she  noticed 
a  change  in  the  attitude  of  the  Spanish-American. 
His  anger  had  passed  and  he  was  more  like  the  foxy 
one  she  feared.  He  smiled,  a  diabolical  sort  of 
smile. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  in  his  ingratiating  way,  "  I'm 
afraid  we've  both  lost  our  heads.  We  have  interests 
in  common,  and  we  must  not  quarrel.  Come  now, 
tell  me,  what  is  the  purpose  you  had  in  mind  in 
bringing  me  here  ?  " 

She  thought  quickly  before  replying. 

"  You  trust  me,  do  you  not  ?  " 

He  smiled  hatefully. 

"  Most  assuredly  —  I  trust  you  implicitly." 

"  In  that  event,"  she  retorted  with  a  look  of  tri- 
umph, "  it  should  not  be  necessary  for  me  to  make 
any  explanations." 

He  was  approaching  her  stealthily,  and  the  look 
on  his  face  caused  the  cold  chills  to  run  up  and 


258  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

down  her  spinal  column.     He  smirked  as  he  spoke. 

"  The  least  you  can  do  is  to  give  me  a  kiss  from 
those  pretty  lips." 

How  she  kept  from  shrieking  she  never  knew. 
But  the  next  moment  she  realized  that  he  had  her 
by  the  arms  and  that  they  were  struggling.  She 
was  frightened,  but  she  had  a  mad  sort  of  feeling 
that  in  the  struggle  she  should  be  able  to  get  posses- 
sion of  the  green  wallet.  In  the  midst  of  it  there 
was  a  sound  in  the  hallway,  and  the  next  moment 
the  door  of  the  room  was  flung  open.  The  interrup- 
tion caused  both  of  them  to  pause  for  the  moment. 
They  stood  there  in  the  pose  of  two  persons  about  to 
embrace.  Hope  looked  toward  the  door,  and  the 
sight  that  met  her  gaze  made  her  dizzy. 

Vance  Prescott,  entering  the  room,  stood  speech- 
less, gazing  at  her  and  Castro.  His  lips  were  parted, 
and  a  look  of  horror  was  on  his  face.  When  he 
spoke,  in  trembling  tones,  it  was  more  to  himself 
than  to  the  others. 

"  You  here,"  he  gasped,  "  and  with  him!  " 

Castro  released  the  girl,  and  she  tottered  for  a 
moment  and  then  slid  down  to  the  couch  in  a  dead 
faint.  As  her  head  touched  the  cushion  a  small 
pearl-handled  revolver  slipped  from  the  sleeve  of  her 
coat  and  fell  to  the  floor.  It  was  evident  that  she 
had  been  prepared  for  the  worst.  The  Spanish- 


Face  to  Face  259 


American  was  quick  to  take  advantage  of  the  turn 
affairs  had  taken.  He  faced  Prescott  angrily : 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  into  ray  apart- 
ments unannounced  ?  " 

"  Your  apartments  —  what  do  you  mean?  "  asked 
the  young  soldier  hoarsely. 

"  Yes,"  shouted  the  Count,  following  up  the  situ- 
ation, "  don't  you  see  that  you  have  startled  my 
wife?  She  has  fainted." 

Vance  Prescott  was  stunned  into  silence.  He 
stood  gazing  at  the  other  man  in  dumb  stupidity. 
Castro,  taking  advantage  of  the  impression  he  had 
made,  sidled  around  until  he  was  between  Prescott 
and  the  door  of  the  room.  There  was  a  look  of 
malignant  triumph  on  his  countenance  as  he  slipped 
into  the  hallway.  The  young  soldier  was  gradually 
coming  to  his  senses.  But  he  was  in  a  dreadful 
dilemma.  Count  Castro  was  already  on  his  way 
downstairs.  Hope  Vernon  lay  unconscious  on  the 
couch.  But  it  only  took  him  a  few  seconds  to  come 
to  his  decision. 

He  cast  one  agonized  look  at  the  girl,  then,  turn- 
ing on  his  heel,  rushed  after  the  Spanish-American. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    CUSTODIANS    OF   LIBERTY 

WHEN  Tommy  Warner  left  Hope  Vernon  earlier 
that  evening  he  had  his  plan  of  campaign  quite  defi- 
nitely mapped  out  in  his  mind.  He  realized  that  he 
would  have  to  act  quickly  and  with  decision,  but  he 
was  able  to  do  this  with  all  the  more  ardor  because 
he  visualized  one  of  the  greatest  newspaper 
"  scoops  "  since  the  outbreak  of  the  war.  His  first 
move  was  to  get  in  touch  with  Bromley  Barnes. 
That  veteran  was  found  at  the  Department  of  Jus- 
tice, and  when  Tommy  had  outlined  his  plan  of 
action  the  veteran  eagerly  joined  with  him,  and 
promised  to  have  a  squad  of  strong-arm  men  at  the 
time  and  place  appointed. 

"  But,  remember,  Barnes,"  insisted  the  cherubic 
one,  "  this  is  my  exclusive  story  and  I  don't  want 
you  passing  it  around  to  the  other  newspaper  men." 

The  venerable  one  gazed  upon  his  young  friend 
with  a  fatherly  smile. 

"  My  boy,  I  haven't  the  slightest  desire  to  deprive 
you  of  any  of  your  glory.  I  shall  say  absolutely 

260 


The  Custodians  of  Liberty          261 

nothing,  for  the  very  good  reason  that  I  have  noth- 
ing to  say.  If  we  are  fortunate  enough  to  land  a 
party  of  these  fanatics  in  the  station  house  I  cannot 
be  responsible  if  that  fact  becomes  public  property." 

"  Sure  not,"  assented  the  enthusiastic  one;  "  what 
I'm  talking  about  is  the  inside  story.  I  want  that 
for  the  Planet  because  it  belongs  to  me." 

"  How  about  bringing  Prescott  with  us  ?  "  asked 
Barnes.  "  He's  still  prowling  about  Washington  in 
the  expectation  of  catching  Castro." 

"  That's  all  right  if  we  can  smuggle  him  in.  You 
know  this  ticket  simply  admits  me  and  another  man. 
It  doesn't  say  anything  about  a  surprise  party." 

Barnes  laughed. 

"  All  right,  son,  we'll  consider  Prescott's  case 
later.  In  the  meantime  I  don't  suppose  we  have 
much  time  to  spare." 

"  We  haven't  any  time  to  spare.  And  if  you're 
wise  you'll  come  to  my  rooms  and  change  your 
clothes.  If  you  appeared  in  that  bunch  looking  as 
if  you'd  just  come  out  of  a  band  box  they'd  mob  you 
for  a  plutocrat.  Come  on,  I've  got  to  make  a  light- 
ning change  myself." 

Fifteen  minutes  later  two  rather  shabby  looking 
individuals  crept  out  of  Tommy  Warner's  bachelor 
quarters,  and  made  for  Freedom  Hall,  a  building 
located  in  a  comparatively  deserted  section  of  the 


262  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

city.  It  was  a  lightless  night,  and  the  darkness 
fitted  in  with  their  mission  in  a  way  they  had  not 
anticipated.  The  two  men  had  the  furtive  manner 
of  criminals,  but  their  hands  and  faces  were  stained 
with  what  was  supposed  to  be  the  marks  of  honest 
toil.  A  dim  lamp  marked  the  exterior  of  the  hall, 
and  once  inside  they  found  the  place  was  divided  up 
into  small  lodge  or  meeting  rooms.  The  greatest 
secrecy  was  maintained,  although  on  the  face  of  it 
the  gathering  purported  to  be  a  meeting  of  patriotic 
citizens  who  were  concerned  only  with  the  question 
of  liberty  for  all  the  world.  There  was  a  guard 
in  a  little  ante-room  and  he  closely  scrutinized  the 
card  that  was  handed  him  by  Tommy  Warner. 

"  Who  is  this  man  ?  "  asked  the  guard,  pointing  a 
dirty  forefinger  in  the  direction  of  Bromley  Barnes. 

"  A  friend  who  is  properly  vouched  for  and  who 
desires  to  join  the  cause,"  replied  Tommy  in  somber 
tones. 

The  door  was  opened  a  crack,  and  the  two 
friends  entered  the  meeting  room.  It  was  a  small 
apartment,  and  poorly  lighted  with  four  or  five  elec- 
tric bulbs.  There  were  probably  twenty-five  or 
thirty  men  present,  sprawling  about  on  chairs,  wait- 
ing for  the  proceedings  to  begin.  There  were  win- 
dows on  both  sides  of  the  room,  and  these  windows 
had  shades  that  were  closely  drawn.  A  little  plat- 


The  Custodians  of  Liberty          263 

form  occupied  the  far  end  of  the  apartment,  and 
on  this  was  a  chair  and  a  little  table.  The  room  was 
filled  with  tobacco  smoke,  and  the  atmosphere  was 
close  and  foul.  An  air  of  suspicion  seemed  to  per- 
vade the  assembly.  In  most  gatherings  it  is  notice- 
able that  men  cluster  in  groups  of  two  and  three  and 
talk,  but  in  this  one  there  seemed  to  be  a  studied 
effort  to  keep  apart. 

Barnes,  who  looked  about  him  with  keen  and  all- 
seeing  eyes,  noted  that  many  of  those  present  had  a 
hang-dog  air  that  fitted  illy  with  their  pretensions 
as  friends  of  liberty.  Also  he  became  aware  that 
many  of  them  had  a  pronounced  Teutonic  cast  of 
countenance.  He  spoke  to  one  or  two,  but  got  the 
merest  nod  in  return.  Evidently  the  Custodians  of 
Liberty  distrusted  one  another.  After  some  minutes 
the  detective  managed  to  get  near  his  friend : 

"  Tommy,"  he  whispered,  "  Prescott  will  be  wait- 
ing for  me.  I  think  it  will  be  possible  to  slip  out  and 
get  him.  If  you  give  me  your  card  I'll  take  the 
chance  of  getting  out  and  bringing  him  back  with 
me." 

The  newspaper  man  managed  to  give  his  card  to 
the  veteran,  but  when  he  spoke  it  was  in  a  tone  of 
anxiety. 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  "  I  leave  it  to  your  judgment, 
but  it  looks"  dangerous  to  me.  Whatever  you  do 


264  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

don't  delay,  for  I  may  need  your  help  before  we  get 
through  with  this  business." 

It  was  on  the  pretense  of  being  ill  that  Bromley 
Barnes  left  the  room.  He  really  looked  pale,  and 
got  out  into  the  air  without  exciting  suspicion.  In 
the  meantime  the  members  began  to  show  signs  of 
impatience.  They  were  evidently  expecting  some 
one  who  had  not  yet  arrived.  Five,  ten  and  then 
fifteen  minutes  passed,  and  then  there  was  a  general 
stir  as  two  new  arrivals  came  into  the  room.  Pre- 
sumably these  two  were  persons  of  importance. 
That  fact  became  manifest  by  the  manner  in  which 
the  others  stiffened  into  attention.  It  was  during 
the  general  movement  caused  by  these  arrivals  that 
Bromley  Barnes  returned  to  the  room.  He  was 
accompanied  by  another  man  who  appeared  to  be 
unkempt  and  unshaven  but  there  was  something 
about  his  walk  and  manner  that  made  him  known  to 
Tommy  Warner  at  once. 

It  was  Captain  Vance  Prescott,  ready  for  any- 
thing that  might  come  from  this  most  unusual  ad- 
venture. 

He  sank  into  a  chair  in  a  corner  of  the  room 
where  he  had  an  excellent  chance  of  watching  the 
proceedings  without  attracting  attention  to  himself. 
Tommy  Warner  secured  a  seat  on  the  other  side  of 
the  room,  while  Barnes  stationed  himself  at  a  point 


The  Custodians  of  Liberty          265 

where  he  would  be  near  the  exit.  One  man,  with  a 
bundle  of  books,  walked  up  to  the  little  platform 
and  took  a  seat  by  the  table.  He  opened  one  of  his 
books  and  began  to  call  off  a  list  of  names.  The 
three  intruders  were  nervous,  but  at  that  stage  of 
the  game  a  grimy- faced  man  called  out : 

"  I  move  we  dispense  with  the  further  calling  of 
the  roll." 

The  motion  was  seconded  and  carried,  much  to 
the  relief  of  Barnes  and  his  associates.  Then  came 
the  first  sensation  of  the  evening.  A  tall  man 
strode  up  to  the  platform  and  rapped  for  order. 
The  effect  of  his  presence  on  the  others  was  electri- 
cal. It  was  the  attitude  of  serfs  before  a  master. 
But  if  the  manner  of  this  person  was  startling  the 
knowledge  of  his  identity  was  no  less  so.  Barnes, 
Prescott  and  Tommy  Warner  made  the  discovery  at 
one  and  the  same  time. 

It  was  Count  Castro  who  stood  before  them  with 
an  air  of  authority  that  was  undeniable. 

He  cast  a  quick  glance  over  the  assemb'y  and  then 
said  in  a  business-like  tone. 

"  Any  reports  from  committees  ?  " 

A  tall  man  in  the  rear  of  the  room,  with  the  air 
of  an  artisan,  arose  and  began  to  talk  in  halting 
tones. 

"  Our  factory  has  closed  down.     We  were  mak- 


266  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

ing  small  shot  for  the  army,  but  I  convinced  the  men 
they  were  not  getting  enough  money  and  they  quit 
work." 

"  Very  good,"  commented  Castro.  "  Now  how 
about  the  delegate  from  the  Norwalk  Munition 
Works?" 

An  elderly  man  near  the  platform  stood  up  with 
some  difficulty.  It  was  noticed  that  his  head  was 
bandaged  and  that  one  arm  was  in  a  sling. 

"  There  ain't  no  Norwalk  Munition  Works,"  he 
said  in  a  quavering  voice.  "  It  blowed  up  yester- 
day, and  it  blowed  up  a  dozen  people  at  the  same 
time.  Poor  devils!" 

"  Yet,"  hissed  a  voice  near  him,  "  the  stuff  they 
were  making  would  have  killed  ten  times  ten  dozen 
people." 

Castro  rapped  on  the  table  with  a  gavel. 

"  Remarks  must  be  addressed  to  the  chair,"  he 
commanded  sternly.  "Any  other  reports?" 

A  red- faced  member,  with  Germany  written  all 
over  his  countenance,  raised  his  hand. 

"  It  is  to  report  about  the  Columbia  Rifle  Com- 
pany that  I  get  up,M  he  said  awkwardly,  "  it  was  to 
the  ground  burned  and  there  is  no  one  to  tell  how 
it  happened." 

There  were  no  further  movements  in  the  little 
company  and  then  Castro  made  an  announcement 


The  Custodians  of  Liberty          267 

that  caused  much  whispering  and  craning  of  necks. 

"  We  have  reached  a  point,"  he  said,  "  when  it 
will  be  indiscreet  to  hold  any  further  meetings. 
You  all  deserve  credit  for  the  good  work  you  have 
done  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  but  in  the  future  you 
must  work  as  individuals  and  not  as  an  organization. 
This  is  made  necessary  by  the  new  and  oppressive 
laws  that  have  been  passed  by  Congress.  Personal 
liberty  has  ceased  to  exist  in  the  United  States  and 
the  good  we  accomplish  must  be  by  stealth." 

"Does  that  mean  that  we  lose  you,  Master?" 
asked  a  long,  thin  man  with  the  face  of  an  idealist. 

"  Yes,  for  the  time  being.  But  I  go  to  do  a  still 
greater  work.  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  do  a  won- 
derful thing  for  the  human  race." 

There  was  a  strange  stillness  in  the  little  room. 
The  Count,  conscious  of  the  effect  he  had  produced, 
tapped  his  breast  with  a  significant  gesture. 

"  I  have  here,"  he  continued,  "  a  document  which 
shall  bring  about  universal  peace.  You  have  all 
done  your  own  parts  in  your  own  way,  but  this  thing 
I  have  will  be  the  means  of  a  master-stroke  that  shall 
fire  the  world.  This  war  shall  be  ended,  nationali- 
ties of  all  kinds  shall  be  abolished,  and  we  shall  have 
the  United  States  of  the  World  —  and  who  shall  say 
that  Emile  Castro  may  not  be  its  first  President  ?  " 

Tommy  Warner  looked  into  the  shining  faces  of 


268  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

the  deluded  crowd  and  worked  his  way  over  to  the 
window.  His  idea  was  to  act  without  being  seen. 
He  touched  a  spring  and  the  shade  shot  up  to  the 
top  of  the  window.  Every  one  in  the  room  turned 
on  the  instant,  but  already  the  cherubic  one  was  back 
in  his  seat  looking  as  innocent  as  a  lamb.  Castro, 
from  his  place  on  the  platform,  was  startled. 

"  Pull  that  shade  down !  "  he  thundered. 

Some  one  pulled  down  the  blind,  but  it  did  not 
allay  the  anxiety.  The  members  of  the  Custodians 
of  Liberty  were  plainly  scared,  and  they  did  not  try 
to  hide  the  fact.  Tommy  Warner  remembered  that 
he  was  to  get  a  telephone  call  from  Hope  Vernon  at 
nine  o'clock.  It  was  twenty  minutes  of  the  hour 
and  events  would  have  to  move  rapidly  if  he  kept 
the  engagement  —  and  it  must  be  kept  at  all  hazards. 
He  looked  about  him  for  Vance  Prescott.  The 
young  soldier  was  at  the  other  side  of  the  room.  If 
he  could  reach  him  and  tell  him  that  Hope  was  at 
the  Willard  it  would  be  a  great  relief.  He  made  a 
move  in  that  direction,  but  at  that  very  moment  there 
was  a  significant  sound  from  without.  A  whistle 
blew  once,  twice,  thrice.  Warner's  newspaper  ex- 
perience told  him  the  meaning  of  those  screeching 
sounds.  Presently  they  all  heard  the  sound  of 
tramping  feet  coming  up  the  stairway.  For  a  mo- 
ment there  was  almost  absolute  quiet  in  the  room, 


The  Custodians  of  Liberty          269 

and  then  a  voice  called  out  the  two  dramatic  words : 

"The  police!" 

A  wild  panic  ensued.  Men  scrambled  over  one 
another,  and  started  for  the  door.  But,  as  they  did 
so,  they  found  Bromley  Barnes  and  Vance  Prescott 
standing  guard  with  pointed  pistols.  There  were 
yells,  and  shrieks  and  wild  oaths.  At  bay  the  mem- 
bers retreated,  inch  by  inch,  in.  the  direction  of  the 
platform.  Count  Castro  stood  there  motionless,  as 
though  he  had  suddenly  been  frozen  into  immobility. 
The  secretary  gathered  up  his  books. 

"  We've  been  trapped !  "  he  shrieked.  "  Let  every 
man  take  care  of  himself !  " 

Even  while  he  spoke,  the  doors  were  burst  open, 
and  they  could  see  the  blue  uniforms  and  the  helmets 
of  the  police.  At  that  critical  moment  the  lights 
were  turned  off,  and  a  mass  of  wild  men  struggled  in 
the  darkness.  A  pistol  shot  was  exploded,  followed 
by  a  cry  of  anguish.  Tommy  Warner,  dazed,  stood 
quite  still.  He  heard  a  whizzing  sound  near  his  left 
ear,  and  he  knew  that  he  had  had  a  narrow  escape 
from  death.  It  was  terrifying,  this  darkness,  and 
the  tramping  of  many  feet.  How  long  it  lasted  no 
one  knew,  but  presently  the  lights  went  up  again,  and 
all  hands  had  an  opportunity  of  getting  their  bear- 
ings. The  idealists  presented  a  sorry  spectacle. 
Most  of  them  were  bedraggled,  and  some  were 


270  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

bleeding.  Others  had  been  trampled  in  the  panic- 
stricken  rush  for  cover.  Above  it  all  could  be  heard 
the  voice  of  the  chief  of  the  raiding  party: 

"  Keep  perfectly  quiet,  every  one  of  you,  or  take 
the  consequences." 

It  was  evident  by  this  time  that  the  police  out- 
numbered the  members  of  the  Custodians  of  Liberty, 
and  that  they  had  the  affair  in  hand.  Patrol  wagons 
were  waiting  in  the  street  below,  and  the  prisoners 
were  hustled  out  of  the  hall,  one  at  a  time,  until  they 
had  all  been  taken  into  custody.  Everything  moved 
like  clockwork,  and  as  was  afterwards  remarked  it 
was  "  pulled  off  "  according  to  schedule.  Tommy 
Warner  was  shoved  into  one  of  the  wagons  by  an 
over-officious  officer,  but  he  was  released  as  soon  as 
his  identity  was  established.  Bromley  Barnes  was 
here,  there  and  everywhere,  assisting  the  police.  It 
was  decided  that  he  should  go  to  the  station  house  to 
prefer  the  formal  charge  of  treason  against  the 
prisoners.  A  mass  of  documentary  evidence  was 
thrown  into  the  wagons  —  evidence  that  was  to  send 
most  of  the  dupes  to  Federal  penitentiaries  for 
periods  ranging  all  the  way  from  five  to  twenty 
years  each. 

Tommy  Warner  was  congratulated  upon  all  sides 
for  his  part  in  the  success  of  this  most  important 
capture.  The  police  were  naturally  jubilant  for 


The  Custodians  of  Liberty          271 

their  net  contained  men  against  whom  they  had  been 
trying  to  secure  evidence  for  the  previous  six 
months.  In  the  midst  of  the  excitement  Warner  re- 
membered his  engagement  on  the  telephone  with 
Hope  Vernon.  It  was  a  few  minutes  of  nine'  By 
hurrying  he  would  be  able  to  get  to  the  Planet  office 
in  time  to  get  the  message  from  the  girl.  He  ex- 
cused himself,  and  hurried  away.  As  he  did  so  he 
cast  one  final  glance  at  the  prisoners  in  the  two  wag- 
ons, and  then  made  a  startling  discovery. 

Count  Castro  was  not  among  the  number.  The 
net  had  made  a  wholesale  haul,  but  the  biggest  fish 
of  all  had  managed  to  escape.  Even  then  he  was 
on  his  way  to  meet  Hope  Vernon  —  a  meeting  which 
has  already  been  described. 

Tommy  gave  a  groan  of  despair,  and  hurried 
away  from  the  place  and  in  the  direction  of  the 
Planet  office.  Once  there  he  did  not  wait  for  the 
elevator,  but  ran  up  the  stairway,  two  steps  at  a 
time.  He  rushed  to  his  room,  and  at  that  very  sec- 
ond the  bell  of  his  telephone  began  to  ring.  As  he 
picked  up  the  receiver  he  caught  the  familiar  voice 
of  Hope  Vernon,  and  as  he  did  so  another  discovery 
flashed  across  his  mind.  Vance  Prescott  was  not  in 
the  party  he  had  just  left.  The  young  soldier  had 
also  mysteriously  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    SEVENTH    OF    MAY 

IT  was  the  seventh  of  May  —  the  anniversary  of 
the  sinking  of  the  Lusitania. 

Vance  Prescott,  seated  in  a  high-powered  auto- 
mobile, peered  about  the  stretch  of  waste  ground 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  expected  to  see  some- 
thing or  somebody  and  had  met  with  disappoint- 
ment. He  was  about  ninety  miles  from  Washing- 
ton and  the  mud  on  the  machine  indicated  that  he 
had  reached  his  destination  regardless  of  bad  roads 
and  speed  laws. 

Events  had  moved  with  lightning-like  rapidity 
from  the  moment  Count  Castro  fled  from  the  room 
in  the  Willard  Hotel.  Vance  Prescott  had  gone 
after  him  like  an  avenging  spirit,  but  that  one  mo- 
ment of  hesitation,  while  he  considered  the  feelings 
and  the  future  of  Hope  Vernon,  had  cost  him  the 
chase.  The  wily  Spanish-American  had  eluded  him 
once  again,  and  he  was  confronted  with  the  specter 
of  ignominious  defeat.  But  blood  will  tell,  and  in 
that  very  instant,  amid  his  darkest  depressions,  he 

272 


The  Seventh  of  May  273 

was  resolving  to  get  his  man  or  perish  in  the  attempt. 
The  thought  of  failure  —  of  ultimate  failure  — 
never  occurred  to  him.  Every  drop  of  blood  in  his 
body  was  roused  to  action. 

His  brain  worked  with  singular  clearness,  and 
while  he  stood  on  the  sidewalk  looking  about  him 
with  seeming  bewilderment  he  was  really  mapping 
out  his  plan  of  campaign.  First  of  all  he  deter- 
mined to  throw  caution  and  diplomacy  to  the  winds. 
The  time  for  considering  the  dignity  of  the  Vernon 
name  had  passed.  If  Castro  escaped  Francis  Ver- 
non would  be  humiliated.  To  prevent  such  a  possi- 
bility it  was  necessary  to  have  the  widest  publicity 
given  to  the  flight  of  the  Count.  Every  agency  at 
the  disposal  of  the  United  States  Government  would 
have  to  be  used  to  the  uttermost.  Vance  Prescott 
squared  his  shoulders,  and  immediately  got  into 
action. 

His  first  move  was  to  get  into  communication 
with  the  United  States  Secret  Service.  He  was 
fortunate  enough  to  reach  Bromley  Barnes,  and, 
through  the  veteran,  notices  were  sent  to  all  of  the 
agencies  of  the  service  in  all  parts  of  the  country 
warning  the  operatives  to  be  on  the  look-out  for  the 
escaped  spy.  At  the  same  time  descriptions  of 
Castro  were  given  to  the  police  of  the  District  of 
Columbia  and  instructions  issued  to  watch  every  rail- 


274  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

road  station  leading  from  the  National  Capital. 
Next  he  made  it  his  business  to  get  into  touch  with 
the  Intelligence  Bureaus  of  the  Army,  Navy  and 
State  Departments.  They  were  informed  that  the 
fugitive  had  an  important  paper  which  it  was  essen- 
tial to  recover.  Finally  every  telegraph  operator  in 
the  city  received  orders  to  carefully  scrutinize  every 
message  that  was  handed  in,  especially  any  telegram 
in  code  or  intended  for  Mexico. 

It  now  became  a  spirited  contest  between  the  pur- 
suer and  the  pursued.  Vance  was  wise  enough  to 
credit  Castro  with  more  than  an  ordinary  amount  of 
cleverness.  The  rascal  knew  the  resources  of  the 
United  States  Government,  and  he  was  sure  to  act 
accordingly.  The  young  soldier  felt,  instinctively, 
that  the  Spanish-American  would  make  for  the  Mex- 
ican border,  and  most  of  his  efforts  were  concen- 
trated in  that  direction.  All  of  these  details  took 
time  and  attention,  and  it  was  nearly  midnight  when 
they  had  been  completed  and  put  into  effect.  The 
final  move  of  Vance  Prescott  was  to  send  a  special 
wire  to  the  Army  Post  at  Fort  Worth,  Texas,  asking 
for  the  cooperation  of  the  officers  at  that  place. 
The  net  had  been  spread  in  all  directions,  and  the 
mesh  was  so  small  that  it  seemed  impossible  for  even 
this  slippery  fish  to  escape.  The  only  danger  was 
that  Castro  might  have  been  lucky  enough  to  get  a 


The  Seventh  of  May  275 

train  out  of  Washington  before  the  warning  reached 
the  police.  But  Vance  felt  reasonably  certain  that 
the  fugitive  did  not  have  the  time  for  that  first 
natural  move. 

Later,  Vance  had  an  opportunity  to  carefully  scan 
the  time  tables  of  the  outgoing  trains  and  he  was 
more  satisfied  than  ever  that  Castro  had  not  left 
the  city  by  rail.  He  might  have  taken  a  local,  but 
that  was  outside  the  zone  of  probability.  The  first 
fruits  of  all  his  work  came  to  him  at  about  one 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  seventh  of  May.  It 
was  a  code  telegram  that  had  been  addressed  to 
Manuel  Velasque,  the  Mexican  Minister  of  the  In- 
terior, and  it  asked  him  to  be  at  the  Mexican  Border 
to  meet  Count  Castro.  It  was  not  given  in  such 
bald  style,  but  that  is  what  the  experts  of  the  Secret 
Service  made  of  the  message  after  working  on  it  for 
nearly  an  hour.  It  was  all  that  Prescott  needed  to 
confirm  the  theory  he  had  formed.  He  could  visual- 
ize the  meeting  between  the  two  agents  of  Germany 
when  they  met,  and  the  precious  bits  of  paper  were 
exchanged.  It  meant  a  fortune  to  the  two  schem- 
ers and  possibly  defeat  for  the  allied  cause. 

Vance  Prescott  obtained  no  rest  that  night,  and  at 
daylight  he  was  reading  the  special  issue  of  the 
Planet  which  contained  a  vivid  story  of  the  raid 
upon  the  Custodians  of  Liberty.  It  was  one  of  the 


276  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

great  scoops  of  the  war,  and  it  raised  Tommy  War- 
ner to  a  high  place  among  the  brilliant  newspaper 
men  of  the  nation.  It  was  told  in  great  detail,  and 
with  a  wealth  of  language  which  stamped  the  writer 
as  a  man  of  ability  —  of  ability  of  the  highest  order. 
With  one  swoop  the  agents  of  the  Government  had 
captured  the  most  dangerous  nest  of  spies  in  the 
United  States.  The  evidence  was  complete,  and  the 
only  fly  in  the  ointment  was  the  escape  of  Count 
Castro,  the  master  spy,  and  the  head  and  front  of 
a  gigantic  conspiracy  against  the  nation.  There 
was  a  speaking  likeness  of  the  man,  and  a  description 
which  was  sufficiently  accurate  to  make  him  recog- 
nizable to  any  intelligent  officer  of  the  law.  Before 
the  people  of  the  nation  sat  down  to  their  breakfast 
tables  that  description  would  be  flashed  to  every  cor- 
ner of  the  country.  Prescott  was  entirely  satisfied 
with  the  manner  in  which  Tommy  Warner  had  done 
his  part  of  the  work. 

He  barely  had  time  to  snatch  a  bite  of  breakfast 
when  the  further  results  of  his  carefully  laid  plans 
came  to  hand.  It  was  in  the  nature  of  a  telegram 
from  one  of  the  military  posts  in  the  South,  and  it 
told  of  a  strange  aeroplane  that  was  seen  hovering  in 
the  lower  part  of  Virginia.  Later,  a  second  mes- 
sage told  of  the  landing  of  the  flying  machine  at  a 
spot  ninety  miles  from  Washington.  That  was  suf- 


The  Seventh  of  May  277 

ficient  for  Prescott  He  sent  a  hurried  message  to 
Barnes,  and  then  secured  a  big  automobile  and 
started  for  the  place  indicated.  Loss  of  sleep  and 
hard  work  had  left  him  wearied,  but  the  prospect  of 
capturing  Castro  sustained  him  for  what  he  felt  was 
the  final  effort  in  the  great  chase.  It  was  nearly 
nine  o'clock  when  he  reached  his  destination,  and  he 
was  there  now  peering  about  him  with  anxious  and 
strained  eyes.  Presently  he  was  rewarded  by  the 
sight  of  an  aeroplane,  being  overhauled  by  two  men. 
Carefully  he  steered  his  machine  behind  a  high 
hedge,  and  from  this  point  of  vantage  watched  the 
operations. 

Presently  Vance  heard  the  buzzing  sound  of  an- 
other automobile.  It  was  a  large  machine,  and  it 
halted  near  the  aeroplane.  A  tall  man,  in  a  long 
coat,  and  wearing  a  pair  of  green  goggles,  alighted, 
and  shook  hands  with  the  two  mechanics.  After  a 
few  moments  one  of  the  men  left  for  the  purpose  of 
obtaining  gasoline  for  the  machine.  In  the  mean- 
while the  tall  person  returned  to  the  automobile  and 
handed  the  chauffeur  a  bank  note.  He  tipped  his 
hat,  and  turned  and  left  the  field  with  his  machine. 
By  this  time  the  wings  of  the  flying  machine  were 
beginning  to  revolve,  and  Vance  knew  that  his  hour 
had  arrived.  He  stealthily  left  his  place  of  conceal- 
ment and  confronted  the  stranger.  The  man,  sur- 


278  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

prised  at  the  new  arrival,  lifted  his  goggles  to  get  a 
better  look  at  the  intruder. 

It  was  Count  Castro  —  all  ready  and  prepared  for 
his  flight  to  the  border  of  Mexico ! 

It  was  a  tense  moment,  and  each  of  the  three  men 
realized  that  it  meant  a  fight  to  the  finish.  Castro 
swore  fluently  in  Spanish  and  made  a  motion  to  the 
man  in  charge  of  the  aeroplane.  The  fellow  rushed 
at  Prescott,  but  before  he  reached  the  young  officer, 
Vance  doubled  up  his  right  fist  and  gave  him  a  pow- 
erful blow  behind  the  left  ear.  He  fell  to  the 
ground  like  a  log.  Just  in  the  rear  of  where  the 
men  stood  was  a  barn-like  structure  which  evidently 
answered  the  purposes  of  a  hangar.  The  Spanish- 
American  gave  one  look  at  his  antagonist,  and  an- 
other in  the  direction  of  the  frame  structure.  Then 
with  the  fleetness  of  a  deer,  he  made  a  rush  for  the 
frame  building.  Vance  ran  after  him,  and  the  two 
of  them  gained  the  interior  of  the  place  at  the  same 
time.  Almost  unconsciously  both  of  them  retreated 
a  few  steps,  and  then  stood  facing  one  another  defi- 
antly. It  looked  as  if  the  supreme  moment  had 
arrived. 

Castro,  even  in  the  instant  of  his  greatest  peril, 
presented  a  majestic  front.  He  was  cornered  like  a 
rat,  and  yet,  somehow,  the  man  acted  with  lion- 
like  courage.  He  threw  aside  his  goggles  and  his 


The  Seventh  of  May  279 

motoring  cap,  and  stood  there,  erect,  gazing  directly 
at  his  antagonist,  with  that  intent  look  which  seemed 
to  gather  in  everything  with  a  single  glance.  His 
long  duster  was  open,  and  Vance,  even  in  that  dra- 
matic moment,  could  see  that  the  ever  present  violet 
rested  in  the  buttonhole  of  his  coat.  He  raised  his 
hand  to  his  chin  as  though  to  stroke  a  beard,  and 
then  seemed  surprised  at  not  finding  it  there.  He 
was  the  personification  of  cunning  and  craft,  and  yet 
he  covered  it  with  that  simulation  of  frankness 
which  became  him  so  well. 

Vance  Prescott,  on  his  part,  looked  like  a  tiger, 
ready  to  spring  on  its  prey.  Never  had  the  broad- 
shouldered,  clean-faced,  strong-limbed,  resolute 
young  man  appeared  to  better  advantage.  His  jaws 
were  set  firmly,  but  there  was  laughter  lurking  in 
his  brown  eyes.  He  was  bare-headed  and  he  ran  his 
fingers  through  his  hair  in  the  habit  that  came  to  him 
when  he  was  in  deadly  earnest.  He  gave  a  slight 
limp  as  he  moved  to  one  side,  a  reminder  of  the 
wound  he  had  received  while  fighting  at  the  front. 
In  the  few  tense  seconds  that  he  stood  facing  his 
personal  enemy,  and  the  enemy  of  his  country,  all  of 
the  wrongs  that  had  been  done  by  this  man  flashed 
through  his  mind.  He  thought  of  the  way  in  which 
he  had  been  outwitted,  and  he  resolved  that  this 
should  be  the  last  stand  —  that  he  would  win  or  sac- 


280  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

rifice  his  life  in  the  attempt.  It  was  the  Count  who 
spoke  first,  and  it  was  in  the  soft,  winning  way 
which  he  knew  so  well  how  to  employ. 

"  Well,  my  young  friend,"  he  purred,  "  it  seems 
to  me  that  we  have  been  brought  into  a  melodramatic 
position  in  this  out  of  the  way  place." 

"  If  there's  any  melodrama  about  the  business," 
retorted  Prescott,  "  you  can  thank  yourself  for  cre- 
ating it.  I  prefer  to  deal  in  the  frank  American 
way." 

"  That  sounds  good.  Maybe  we  can  adjust  our 
differences  without  any  further  difficulty.  Tell  me, 
what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  You  can  hand  me  that  green  wallet  —  the  wallet 
which  contains  the  contract  for  the  Mexican  oil 
fields." 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  the  Count  in  a  mocking  voice. 
"  This  sounds  more  like  the  language  of  a  stock- 
broker's office  than  a  chat  between  two  friends  in  a 
Virginia  barn.  But,  unfortunately,  I  have  not  got 
the  article  you  speak  about." 

"  You  lie!  "  cried  Vance  hotly;  "  it's  sticking  out 
of  your  pocket  now.  Give  it  to  me,  or  take  the  con- 
sequences." 

The  retort  brought  the  faintest  touch  of  blood  to 
the  colorless  face  of  the  South  American.  He 
made  a  move  as  if  to  leave  the  building. 


The  Seventh  of  May  281 

"  I've  got  nothing  that  belongs  to  you,"  he  said, 
dropping  his  soft  manners,  "  and  I  don't  propose  to 
stand  any  more  of  your  insolence." 

"If  you  try  to  leave  this  place  without  giving  me 
that  wallet,"  cried  Vance,  passionately,  "  I'll  kill  you. 
Do  you  understand,  I'll  kill  you !  " 

Castro  never  wavered  at  that  outburst.  Instead, 
he  started  for  the  door  of  the  building.  But  Vance 
met  him  half  way,  and  the  next  moment  they  were 
engaged  in  a  hand  to  hand  struggle.  Prescott  had 
the  advantage  of  youth  and  weight,  but  the  South- 
American  had  the  quickness  of  the  fox  and  was  as 
slippery  as  an  eel.  They  swayed  to  and  fro,  and  in 
the  midst  of  it  the  green  wallet  slipped  from  the 
Count's  pocket  and  fell  to  the  ground.  Both  men 
realized  what  had  happened  at  the  same  time  and 
they  separated  and  made  a  rush  for  the  coveted  bit  of 
leather.  It  was  Prescott  who  reached  it  first,  and  he 
calmly  placed  the  wallet  in  his  inside  pocket  and  but- 
toned his  coat.  The  act  roused  all  the  fury  of  the 
nature  of  the  other  man. 

"  You  fool,"  he  hissed,  "  you  don't  suppose  for  a 
minute  that  I'll  let  you  leave  this  place  alive  with 
that  wallet,  do  you  ?  " 

Prescott  laughed  ironically. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  leave  it  to  you.  This  is  the 
second  time  I've  had  this  thing  in  my  possession, 


282  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

and  I  promise  you  I'm  not  going  to  lose  it  again." 
Castro  was  between  Prescott  and  the  door,  and 
he  threw  out  his  hands  to  block  his  passage.  Vance 
made  a  move  as  though  he  would  slip  around  the  side 
of  his  antagonist.  The  veins  on  the  forehead  of  the 
Spanish-American  bulged  out  and  his  eyes  flashed 
fire.  There  was  murder  in  his  heart  and  in  his  face. 
He  reached  for  his  back  pocket.  There  was  a  flash 
of  metal  and  a  puff  of  smoke  and  a  sharp  report. 
Vance  felt  a  stinging  sensation  in  his  left  arm,  and 
the  next  instant  that  member  dropped  helplessly  by 
his  side. 

He  reached  for  his  own  pistol  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, and  cursed  his  stupidity  for  not  having  done 
so  before.  The  other  man  saw  the  movement,  and 
rushed  at  him  like  a  mad  bull.  Vance  thought 
quickly.  He  made  for  the  back  of  the  barn  and 
leaned  against  the  boards.  On  and  on  the  other 
came,  and  finally  struck  him  with  terrific  force. 
The  impact  was  so  great  that  it  blinded  the  young 
soldier  for  the  moment.  His  one  thought  was  for 
the  green  wallet  in  his  inside  pocket.  His  coat  was 
still  tightly  buttoned.  He  felt  Castro  trying  to  tear 
it  open,  and  he  resisted  with  all  the  strength  at  his 
command.  He  had  his  pistol  in  his  right  hand,  but 
the  Spanish-American  had  him  pinioned  against  the 
wall.  He  tried  to  get  at  his  assailant  with  his  left 


HE   SAW    HIM    STAGGER 


The  Seventh  of  May 283 

hand,  but  found  himself  powerless  to  do  so.  Every 
move  he  made  was  followed  by  excruciating  pain, 
and  even  then  he  was  barely  able  to  raise  the 
wounded  arm.  The  drama  had  reached  its  most 
critical  stage. 

"  Open  your  coat,"  panted  the  Count,  "  open  your 
coat,  if  you  value  your  life." 

Vance  gave  a  hysterical  laugh,  and  as  he  did  so 
could  feel  himself  growing  weaker  and  weaker. 

"What  —  what  would  you  give  if  I  did?"  he 
cried  in  trembling  but  taunting  tones. 

Castro  did  not  reply,  but  he  stepped  back  about  a 
foot,  and  then  doubling  up  his  fist  he  gave  the  young 
soldier  a  shot  straight  between  the  eyes.  Vance 
heard  a  singing  in  the  ears  and  he  saw  stars  in  that 
darkened  barn.  In  that  dreadful  moment  he  imag- 
ined he  saw  the  word  "  Defeat  "  spelled  out  in  burn- 
ing letters.  It  roused  every  drop  of  blood  in  his 
weakened  body.  It  endowed  him  with  super-human 
strength.  He  saw  the  Count  coming  at  him  the  sec- 
ond time,  and  then  he  lifted  his  good  arm  and  gave 
his  antagonist  a  fearful  whack  across  the  top  of  the 
head  with  the  butt  end  of  his  revolver. 

As  through  a  mist  he  could  see  Castro  looking  at 
him  with  glazed  eyes.  He  saw  him  stagger  for  a 
moment  and  then  drop  to  the  ground.  At  the  same 
second  everything  went  black  about  him,  and  con- 
sciousness was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AT   THE   STATE  DEPARTMENT 

IT  was  a  quarter  before  twelve  on  the  seventh  of 
May  at  the  State  Department,  in  the  City  of  Wash- 
ington. So  far  as  appearances  went  there  was  noth- 
ing out  of  the  ordinary  in  the  historic  offices  which 
had  been  the  scenes  of  so  many  celebrated  events  in 
the  life  of  the  Republic.  It  is  true  there  was  an  air 
of  tension  about  the  place,  but  it  did  not  differ 
materially  from  the  atmosphere  which  had  hovered 
over  the  Department  from  the  very  beginning  of  the 
great  war.  But  now,  as  always,  there  was  an  air 
of  repression  which  might  be  said  to  be  traditional. 
In  times  of  national  excitement  the  War  Department 
and  the  Navy  Department,  and  even  the  White 
House  might  respond  to  feelings  of  emotion,  but 
the  State  Department  was  supposed  always  to 
hold  itself  in  check  and  to  act  with  ceremony  and 
dignity  —  and  such  seemed  to  be  the  case  on  the 
auspicious  day  under  consideration. 

At  ten  minutes  before  the  noon  hour  Francis  Ver- 
non,  the  Fourth  Assistant  Secretary  of  State, 


At  the  State  Department  285 

alighted  from  a  cab  and  walked  slowly  up  the  steps 
in  the  direction  of  his  office.  He  was  pale  and  weak, 
and  showed  evidences  of  the  severe  illness  through 
which  he  had  just  passed.  It  was  perfectly  plain 
that  nothing  but  a  high  sense  of  duty  had  induced 
him  to  leave  Idlewild  to  come  to  Washington  on  this 
day  in  May.  He  greeted  the  attendants  graciously, 
but  there  was  an  air  of  sadness  about  him  that  could 
not  be  concealed.  He  looked  about  him  eagerly  as 
he  entered  his  room,  as  though  he  expected  some  one 
to  be  in  waiting.  But  he  was  disappointed.  No 
one  was  there,  except  the  colored  messenger,  and  his 
solicitude  for  his  superior  only  added  to  the  prevail- 
ing atmosphere  of  depression. 

Professor  Vernon  opened  his  desk,  and  made  a 
careful  examination  of  the  papers  he  found  there. 
But  the  document  he  desired  most  of  all  was  not  to 
be  found.  He  called  to  one  of  the  clerks  and  that 
functionary  informed  him  that  all  of  the  mail  for  the 
day  had  been  placed  before  him.  There  had  been 
no  telephone  calls  and  no  telegrams.  The  sick  man 
sighed  heavily,  and  going  to  the  window  of  his  room 
looked  out  into  the  sunlit  street  in  the  hope  of  gain- 
ing some  inspiration  from  that  source.  But  the 
light  and  the  life  he  saw  there  only  seemed  to  mock 
his  expectations.  For  the  first  time  in  his  long  and 
honorable  career  he  saw  rank  failure  staring  him  in 


286  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

the  face.  He  had  done  everything  in  his  power  to 
bring  this  business  of  the  oil  contract  to  a  successful 
conclusion,  but  he  had  failed,  and  he  knew  from  long 
experience  in  public  life  that  nothing  in  this  world 
was  quite  as  thankless  as  failure.  While  he  stood 
there,  thinking  over  the  events  of  the  previous  week, 
the  Secretary  passed  through  the  room  to  his  own 
private  office. 

"  Good  morning,  Professor,"  he  called  pleasantly. 
"  I  shall  need  you  in  about  ten  minutes." 

Vernon  returned  the  greeting,  and  was  plunged  in 
deeper  gloom  than  ever.  What  should  he  do  ?  He 
knew  that  he  would  be  asked  for  the  papers,  and  he 
was  morally  certain  that  he  would  be  unable  to  pro- 
duce them  at  the  time  appointed.  He  felt  an  un- 
controllable impulse  to  put  on  his  hat  and  flee  from 
the  office.  A  confession  of  any  kind  is  always  diffi- 
cult, but  a  confession  of  failure  was  too  dreadful  to 
contemplate.  He  felt  a  curious  sense  of  ineffi- 
ciency. Yet  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  realized 
that  he  had  done  everything  in  his  power  to  make 
good  and  that  he  had  been  frustrated  by  events  over 
which  he  had  no  control.  At  this  last  moment  he 
was  assailed  by  a  hundred  and  one  doubts  concern- 
ing the  wisdom  of  his  course  of  action.  He  felt 
that  he  was  not  responsible  for  the  miserable  failure, 
but  he  wondered  if  he  had  done  the  right  thing  in 


At  the  State  Department  287 

withholding  the  story  of  that  failure  from  the  one 
man  who  should  have  been  told  about  it.  Even  then 
he  had  the  desire  to  rush  into  the  room  of  his  chief 
and  tell  him  everything. 

But  something  within  him  said :  "  Never  say 
die,"  and  he  hesitated.  In  that  moment  of  hesita- 
tion he  lost  the  opportunity.  He  heard  the  messen- 
ger announcing  the  arrival  of  the  Ambassador  from 
France,  and  the  next  moment  he  could  hear  the 
sound  of  laughter  and  pleasant  chat  coming  from  the 
adjoining  room.  He  shivered  as  he  thought  of  the 
effect  that  would  be  produced  when  he  was  unable  to 
produce  the  contract  for  the  oil  concessions.  He 
paced  up  and  down  the  narrow  apartment  nervously, 
and  while  he  did  so  the  Ambassador  from  Great 
Britain  arrived  and  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of 
the  other  diplomats.  The  tension  was  so  great  by 
this  time  that  he  felt  like  screaming.  He  gave  some 
trivial  order  to  the  messenger,  and  while  he  was 
waiting  to  have  it  executed  the  Ambassador  from 
Italy  came  into  the  room,  and  was  immediately 
escorted  to  the  office  where  he  was  awaited  by  his 
colleagues. 

Francis  Vernon  looked  at  the  clock.  It  pointed  to 
five  minutes  of  twelve.  He  was  consumed  with 
anxiety.  He  walked  over  to  his  desk  and  began  to 
re-arrange  his  papers  with  trembling  hands.  What 


288  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

could  he  do  ?  What  should  he  say  ?  He  walked  to 
the  window  again,  and  looked  out,  but  he  got  no 
encouragement  from  that  source.  He  heard  the  bell 
in  the  office  of  the  Secretary  of  State  ring.  The 
next  moment  the*  messenger  came  to  him  with  a 
smiling  face: 

"  Professor,  the  Secretary  says  he  would  like  to 
speak  to  you  for  a  moment." 

He  licked  his  lips  with  the  tip  of  his  tongue.  He 
tried  to  collect  his  scattered  thoughts.  He  hesitated 
for  a  moment  and  then  strode  into  the  other  room 
with  the  air  of  the  condemned  man  who  has  worked 
up  his  courage  for  the  supreme  test. 

"Vernon!"  exclaimed  the  Secretary  of  State 
genially,  "  you  are  acquainted  with  these  gentle- 
men," and  the  dazed  one  found  himself  shaking 
hands  in  a  mechanical  way  with  the  three  Ambas- 
sadors. 

"  Vernon,"  added  the  gentlemanly  chief,  turning 
to  the  diplomats,  "  is  our  right  hand  man  here.  I 
don't  know  what  in  the  world  we  would  do  without 
him.  He,  has  had  all  of  the  details  of  this  business 
in  his  care,  and  he  deserves  great  credit  for  the  work 
he  has  done." 

Vernon  felt  that  coals  of  fire  were  being  poured 
upon  his  head  by  this  man  who  had  been  his  devoted 
friend  all  his  life.  He  looked  about  himself  wildly, 


At  the  State  Department  289 

as  though  seeking  for  a  means  of  escape.     Finally, 
he  could  restrain  himself  no  longer. 

"  Mr.  Secretary !  "  he  cried,  "  before  we  go  any 
further  I  must  tell  you  — " 

But  the  head  of  the  State  Department  was  not 
listening.  He  had  already  turned  to  the  French 
Ambassador  and  was  making  some  jesting  remark. 
Vernon,  in  despair  started  again: 

"  I  was  about  to  tell  you  — " 

"  Never  mind  now,  Vernon,"  interrupted  the  Sec- 
retary hastily ;  "  excuse  us  for  a  moment,  and  bring 
the  papers  in  precisely  at  twelve  o'clock." 

The  Professor  found  himself  walking  into  the 
outer  room  like  a  man  in  a  dream.  He  seemed  to 
have  lost  the  power  of  initiative.  His  physical 
strength  had  left  him,  and  his  mental  powers  were  a 
blank.  He  sank  into  his  chair  with  a  groan  of  de- 
spair. He  was  finally  aroused  by  the  little  clock  on 
the  mantel  beginning  to  strike  the  hour  of  twelve. 
He  roused  himself  by  a  powerful  effort  of  the  will, 
and  staggered  toward  the  window.  He  looked  out 
dazedly,  and  suddenly  his  senses  began  to  return. 
The  sight  he  saw  roused  every  drop  of  blood  in  his 
body.  A  cab  had  dashed  to  the  curb  and  a  man  was 
alighting.  He  looked  again.  He  could  not  be  mis- 
taken. He  was  not  mistaken. 

The  man  was  Captain  Vance  Prescott,  and  he  was 


290  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

staggering  up  the  steps  of  the  State  Department, 
with  a  look  of  wild  exultation  on  his  face. 

In  that  instant  Professor  Francis  Vernon  became 
a  young  man  again.  His  strength  returned  and  his 
mind  began  to  work  clearly.  He  hastened  to  the 
door  of  his  room,  just  in  time  to  greet  the  young 
man  who  was  feeling  his  way  into  the  apartment 
with  the  air  of  one  who  has  lost  the  power  of  sight. 
Prescott  looked  dirty  and  bedraggled.  One  arm 
hung  helplessly  by  his  side,  and  Vernon  could  see 
that  the  blood  was  trickling  from  his  coat  sleeve. 
His  face  was  cut  and  bruised,  he  was  hatless  and  his 
hair  was  in  wild  disorder.  He  looked  at  his  friend 
out  of  glazed  eyes.  When  he  spoke  it  was  in  a 
thick  voice. 

"  Am  —  am  I  too  late  ?  "  he  gasped. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Vernon,  "  but  tell  me  what  has 
happened  to  you  ?  Are  you  hurt  ?  " 

Vance  Prescott  shook  his  head  and  leaned  over 
and  caught  the  edge  of  the  mantelpiece  for  support. 
By  an  effort  he  threw  open  the  flap  of  his  coat. 

"  In  my  pocket,"  he  murmured  in  a  whisper,  "  put 
your  hand  in  my  pocket  and  get  the  green  wallet." 

The  Professor  did  as  he  was  told.  He  pulled  out 
the  wallet  and  opening  it  found  the  precious  docu- 
ment. At  that  instant  the  messenger  came  into  the 
room  and  addressed  the  Assistant  Secretary. 


At  the  State  Department  291 

"  The  Secretary  says  he  is  ready  for  you  now," 
he  announced. 

Vernon  turned  to  Vance  Prescott  with  a  look  of 
keen  solicitude. 

"  Let  me  take  care  of  you,"  he  said. 

But  the  young  army  officer  waved  him  aside  with 
a  motion  of  his  sound  arm. 

"  Never  mind  me,"  he  cried  huskily,  "  go  —  go  in 
there  at  once.  They're  waiting  for  you.  Go 
ahead." 

With  a  look  of  misgiving  Vernon  went  into  the 
other  room  and  laid  the  document  on  the  table  be- 
fore the  assembled  diplomats. 

The  Secretary  of  State  gazed  on  the  paper  with 
undisguised  satisfaction.  He  handed  a  pen  to  the 
French  Ambassador,  and  that  official  affixed  his  sig- 
nature. The  others  followed,  quickly.  As  the  last 
name  was  placed  on  the  document  the  head  of 
the  State  Department  pointed  to  his  assistant 
proudly. 

"  What  did  I  tell  you,"  he  said ;  "  this  man  Vernon 
has  never  failed  his  country  in  its  hour  of  need." 

They  all  pressed  forward  and  shook  the  unresist- 
ing hand  of  the  Fourth  Assistant  Secretary  of  State. 
The  French  Ambassador  voiced  the  sentiments  of 
all  when  he  exclaimed : 

"  You  have  clinched  the  victory  of  the  Allies  — 


292  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

you  will  never  be  forgotten  when  the  story  of  this 
war  is  told." 

But  Francis  Vernon  did  not  hear.  He  hurried 
from  the  presence  of  the  delighted  Ambassadors  and 
rushed  into  his  own  room.  Vance  Prescott  was  still 
standing  by  the  mantelpiece,  but  he  was  swaying  to 
and  fro,  and  as  his  friend  reached  his  side  he  fell 
to  the  floor  in  a  dead  faint. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

NEMESIS 

THE  report  of  the  signing  of  a  contract  by  the 
United  States  and  its  Allies  by  which  they  obtained 
a  monopoly  of  the  product  of  the  newly  discovered 
oil  fields  in  Mexico  was  flashed  to  the  four  quarters 
of  the  earth,  and  created  one  of  the  great  sensations 
of  the  war.  It  came  at  a  time,  too,  when  the  thrones 
of  the  old  world  were  tottering  to  their  fall,  and,  in 
the  minds  of  astute  students  of  diplomacy,  it  was  the 
last  straw  to  break  the  back  of  autocracy. 

The  story  of  how  that  contract  came  to  be  finally 
signed  was  not  given  to  the  public,  and,  for  reasons 
of  state,  the  part  played  in  the  game  by  Vance  Pres- 
cott  was  not  disclosed  in  the  newspapers.  But 
Tommy  Warner  and  his  fellow  journalists  under- 
stood it,  and  so  did  the  men  who  were  at  the  head  of 
the  American  Government.  The  young  soldier  was 
taken  to  the  best  hospital  in  Washington,  and  was 
placed  under  the  care  of  skilled  physicians  and 
nurses.  It  was  found  that  the  bones  of  the  left  arm 
had  been  shattered,  and  that  the  patient  was  in  a 

293 


294  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

highly  nervous  condition.  But  with  proper  atten- 
tion and  rest,  it  was  declared,  he  would  be  almost 
normal  in  the  course  of  a  fortnight.  Visitors  were 
banned  in  order  to  hasten  his  recovery.  This  or- 
der, however,  did  not  prevent  flowers  from  coming 
to  the  bedside  of  the  stricken  one,  and  he  noticed, 
with  a  flush  of  pleasure,  that  the  largest  and  reddest 
bunch  of  roses  came  from  the  conservatory  at  Idle- 
wild. 

It  was  after  the  wants  of  the  young  soldier  had 
been  fully  cared  for  that  Bromley  Barnes  and 
Tommy  Warner  met,  for  a  chat  and  a  cigar,  at  the 
bachelor  quarters  of  the  veteran  detective,  overlook- 
ing the  Capitol.  For  the  third  time  they  had  gone 
over  the  incidents  preceding  the  final  dash  of  Pres- 
cott  to  Washington,  and  Barnes  was  chuckling  over 
the  pluck  the  young  man  had  shown  in  the  face  of 
seeming  defeat. 

"  It  was  fine,"  conceded  Warner,  "  but  I've  been 
wondering  what  in  the  world  became  of  Count  Cas- 
tro. I  have  a  very  cordial  dislike  for  the  fellow, 
but  you've  got  to  give  the  devil  his  due,  and  you 
must  admit  that  he  was  not  the  sort  to  give  up  any 
more  than  Prescott."  Barnes  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke 
in  the  air,  and  reflected  a  moment  before  replying. 

"  I  do  concede  that,"  he  said  finally,  "  and  if  I 
were  asked  for  my  opinion  I'd  say  that  he  was  in 


Nemesis  295 

Washington  at  the  present  time.  Vance  must  have 
given  him  an  awful  knock  with  the  butt  end  of 
that  pistol,  but  the  old  fox  is  not  the  kind  to  die  so 
easily.  I'll  bet  all  I'm  worth  that  he  recovered 
and  that  his  first  move  was  to  get  to  Washington 
in  the  wild  hope  of  getting  hold  of  that  green 
wallet." 

"  But  he  got  here  too  late,"  began  Tommy, 
"and—" 

"  Of  course  he  got  here  too  late,"  interrupted  the 
veteran.  "  He  knew  that  the  meeting  between  the 
Ambassadors  was  to  be  at  high  noon,  and  when  he 
found  he  had  missed  that  he  knew  the  game  was  up. 
Now  the  question  is  what  would  a  man  like  Castro  do 
under  the  circumstances.  He  is  aware  that  a  price  is 
on  his  head,  and  he  knows  that  the  roads  leading  to 
Mexico  are  being  watched  with  particular  care.  My 
guess  is  that  he  would  try  to  hide  here  in  Washing- 
ton, or  go  on  to  New  York  in  the  expectation  that 
he  would  be  swallowed  up  in  the  eddying  world  of 
the  five  million  people  in  that  city." 

"  That  sounds  very  reasonable,"  admitted  War- 
ner, "  but  I  guess  the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  for- 
get the  titled  rascal." 

Barnes  laughed. 

"  That's  characteristic  of  you,  Tommy.  You  like 
to  forget  the  things  you  can't  solve.  But  I  have  a 


296  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

notion  that  down  in  your  boots  you  have  a  sort  of 
sneaking  admiration  for  the  fellow." 

The  face  of  the  cherubic  one  flushed. 

"  That  all  depends  upon  what  you  mean.  I  have 
a  great  contempt  for  the  work  in  which  Castro  was 
engaged,  but  I'll  admit  that  his  cleverness  fascinated 
me.  A  chap  who  could  do  what  he  did  against  such 
odds  is  not  an  ordinary  man  by  any  manner  of 
means." 

The  two  men  sat  and  smoked  in  silence  for  some 
time.  Presently  the  telephone  bell  began  to  tinkle, 
and  Barnes  reached  over  and  picked  up  the  receiver. 
The  message  he  received  caused  his  eyes  to  sparkle. 
He  answered  in  monosyllables,  and  asked  one  or  two 
questions.  After  he  hung  up,  he  turned  to  his 
friend  and  said: 

"  Tommy,  I'll  bet  you  can't  guess  who  was  on  the 
phone? " 

"  It  was  Castro,"  was  the  triumphant  reply. 

"  No,  you're  wrong.  It  was  the  Superintendent 
of  Police  for  the  District,  and  he  gives  me  an  im- 
portant piece  of  information.  You  remember  the 
two  Mexicans  who  were  placed  under  arrest  in  con- 
nection with  the  green  wallet?  " 

"  Rather.  Fernando  Werta  and  Pedro  Lopez 
were  the  two  deuces,  if  I'm  not  mistaken  on  names." 

"  You're  perfectly  correct.     Well,  they've  broken 


Nemesis  297 

jail.  They've  escaped  and  no  one  knows  what's  be- 
come of  them." 

Tommy  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  It  was  very  stupid  to  let  them  get  away,  but  I 
don't  suppose  it's  a  killing  matter.  They  were  only 
tools  anyhow.  What  difference  does  it  make 
whether  they're  in  or  out  of  jail  as  long  as  we 
haven't  got  the  principals  ?  " 

Barnes  knitted  his  eyebrows. 

"  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  this  thing.  I've  talked 
to  these  two  fellows.  I've  looked  into  their  faces, 
and  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  professional  murderers 
Werta  and  Lopez  belong  in  that  category.  That's 
why  I  can't  look  on  this  as  a  case  of  ordinary  jail 
breaking." 

Tommy  became  anxious  at  once. 

"  You  don't  think  they'll  go  after  Vance,  do  you? 
You're  not  afraid  for  yourself,  are  you?" 

Barnes  laughed  heartily  at  his  young  friend. 

"  Tommy,  you  can  ask  more  questions  in  a  given 
time  than  any  other  man  I  know.  I'm  not  going  to 
try  to  answer  them." 

The  journalist  and  the  detective  separated  soon 
after  that,  with  the  understanding  that  they  would 
take  dinner  at  the  Press  Club  in  the  evening. 

They  met  at  the  appointed  hour,  only  to  be  con- 
fronted with  a  new  sensation.  The  evening  news- 


298  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

papers  contained  the  story  of  a  mysterious  murder 
—  and  the  murderers  were  Fernando  Werta  and  Pe- 
dro Lopez.  They  admitted  the  crime,  and  admitted 
it  with  a  ghoulish  glee  that  startled  even  the  police 
who  were  accustomed  to  all  phases  of  crime.  They 
said  they  had  escaped  from  jail  with  that  single 
purpose  in  mind.  It  was  a  case  of  seeking  revenge, 
and  they  had  obtained  what  they  were  after.  The 
victim,  whose  name  was  given  as  Emile  Dupont,  was 
said  to  be  the  head  of  a  secret  society  in  Mexico 
which  had  for  its  object  the  overthrow  of  the  Mex- 
ican Government.  The  two  men  who  had  assassi- 
nated their  chief  had  come  to  the  United  States  with 
him.  They  claimed  he  had  deserted  and  betrayed 
them  and  they  determined  to  be  revenged  by  his 
death.  One  of  the  newspapers  printed  a  photograph 
of  the  victim.  It  was  furnished  by  one  of  the  mur- 
derers, and  represented  a  stately  looking  man  with  a 
long  beard. 

"  Well,"  said  Barnes  to  Tommy,  after  all  of  this 
news  had  been  read  and  digested,  "  this  certainly 
beats  the  Turks.  It  has  given  a  spectacular  finish  to 
the  little  adventure  of  the  green  wallet." 

"  It  is  sensational  enough,"  agreed  the  newspaper 
man,  "  but  it  really  seems  a  little  bit  too  deep  for  my 
comprehension." 

"Well,"  laughed  Barnes,  "if  it  hasn't  affected 


Nemesis  299 

your  digestion  I'd  suggest  that  we  go  ahead  with  our 
dinner." 

They  ate  their  meal,  and  enjoyed  it,  but  all  the 
while  Tommy  seemed  to  be  plunged  in  deep  thought. 
His  companion  chided  him  with  absent-mindedness, 
and  wanted  to  know  if  he  was  in  love.  Warner 
shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  haven't  reached  that  stage  yet. 
But  I  can't  get  the  story  of  this  mysterious  assassina- 
tion out  of  my  mind.  It's  a  great  story,  but  I  feel, 
somehow,  that  there's  a  greater  one  behind  it.  See 
here,  Barnes,  I'm  going  around  to  the  morgue  and 
take  a  look  at  the  body  of  this  man.  Are  you  game 
to  go  with  me?  " 

"  You  know  me,  Al,"  was  the  playful  response. 
"  If  you'll  lead  the  way,  I'll  go  anywhere." 

Fifteen  minutes  later  they  were  in  conversation 
with  the  keeper  of  the  morgue,  a  merry-faced  man, 
who  had  not  permitted  his  gruesome  occupation  to 
interfere  with  his  natural  cheeriness  of  mind.  War- 
ner explained  the  object  of  the  visit  and  he  escorted 
them  to  a  long  marble  slab,  containing  a  number 
of  bodies.  He  halted  before  the  second  of  these, 
and  lifted  the  white  sheet  that  covered  the  life- 
less body.  The  visitors  drew  back  with  a  start  of 
horror.  The  truth  flashed  on  their  minds  simul- 
taneously. 


300  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

They  were  looking  upon  the  face  and  form  of 
Count  Castro ! 

They  nodded  to  the  keeper,  and  he  covered  up  the 
ghastly  exhibit.  Tommy  Warner  turned  to  his 
companion. 

"  It  was  just  what  I  expected,"  he  said,  "  but 
what  I  cannot  understand  is  the  picture  in  the  even- 
ing newspaper.  That  depicted  Dupont,  or  Castro, 
as  a  man  with  a  long  beard." 

The  detective  looked  at  his  friend  thoughtfully 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  he  said : 

"  Have  you  a  copy  of  the  newspaper  with  you?  " 

Tommy  had  and  he  spread  it  out  on  the  flat  desk 
in  the  office  of  the  keeper  of  the  Morgue.  Barnes 
placed  his  hand  over  the  beard. 

"  Now  do  you  recognize  the  face  ?  " 

"  Surely.  It  is  Count  Castro.  But,  do  you  mean 
to  say  — " 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Barnes,  "  I  mean  to  say  that 
they  are  one  and  the  same  man.  That  picture,  prob- 
ably taken  in  Mexico  years  ago,  showed  our  Span- 
ish-American friend  with  a  beard.  He  has  it  shaved 
off.  That's  the  only  difference.  Don't  you  recall 
one  of  the  characteristics  of  the  man?  Every  now 
and  then  he  was  in  the  habit  of  lifting  his  hand  to 
his  chin  as  though  to  stroke  a  beard,  and  then  seem- 
ing surprised  at  not  finding  it  there." 


Nemesis  301 

Tommy  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"  It's  perfectly  clear  to  me  now,  and  it  shows  the 
importance  of  noting  little  details  when  you  are  in 
the  business  of  detecting  crime." 

They  left  the  gloomy  place  a  few  minutes  later  in 
a  very  thoughtful  frame  of  mind.  They  breathed 
the  fresh  air  with  sighs  of  relief. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A   TREATY   OF   PEACE 

IT  was  a  bright  morning  in  June  and  Hope  Ver- 
non  stood  at  the  entrance  to  Idlewild  peering  down 
the  winding  road  with  a  look  of  eager  expectancy 
in  her  blue  eyes.  She  seemed  pale,  but  happy,  and 
there  was  a  wistfulness  in  her  countenance  which 
gave  it  the  kind  of  beauty  that  had  never  been  there 
before.  The  breeze  played  with  her  curling  hair, 
and  altogether  she  made  a  very  attractive  picture; 
framed  in  green,  with  the  two  rows  of  trees  leading 
to  the  house,  as  a  picturesque  background. 

In  and  about  Idlewild  there  were  signs  of  festiv- 
ity. Mrs.  Spencer,  the  housekeeper,  her  face  florid 
from  unusual  exertion,  was  here,  there  and  every- 
where, while  Barker,  the  trusted  servant  of  the  es- 
tablishment, seemed  to  be  fairly  bursting  with  im- 
portance. He  wore  a  blue  cutaway  coat  with  brass 
buttons,  and  that  in  itself  was  significant.  Any  one 
familiar  with  the  history  of  the  Vernon  family  knew 
very  well  that  the  blue  coat  with  the  brass  buttons 
was  a  garment  worn  only  on  state  occasions.  But 

302 


A  Treaty  of  Peace  303 

quite  apart  from  everything  else  the  shining  face  and 
the  smiling  lips  of  the  faithful  Barker  would  have 
been  sufficient  to  proclaim  the  fact  that  it  was  a  red- 
letter  day  at  Idlewild. 

Francis  Vernon,  with  a  look  of  perfect  tranquillity 
upon  his  venerable  countenance,  sat  in  the  living- 
room,  and  on  either  side  of  him  was  Bromley  Barnes 
and  Tommy  Warner.  All  three  men  were  smoking 
the  perfectos  for  which  the  Fourth  Assistant  Sec- 
retary of  State  was  noted,  and  the  newspaper  man 
was  telling  for  the  third  time  the  story  of  the  scoop 
that  had  made  him  famous.  He  twirled  his  eye- 
glasses on  the  end  of  their  black  string  as  he  talked 
and  his  red  face  and  eager  eyes  gave  him  a  more 
cherubic  appearance  than  ever.  During  the  narra- 
tive the  old  detective  slyly  winked  at  Professor  Ver- 
non as  much  as  to  say  that  they  would  have  to  ap- 
pear interested  in  this  oft-told  tale  because  of  their 
fondness  for  the  narrator.  At  intervals  Vernon 
pulled  out  his  watch  and  at  one  point  in  the  conversa- 
tion he  so  far  forgot  the  reverence  that  was  sup- 
posed to  go  with  the  recital  of  Tommy's  story  as  to 
say: 

"  I  hope  nothing's  happened  to  the  lad." 

Bromley  Barnes  laughed  in  his  hearty,  contagious 
manner. 

"  Don't  worry,   Professor.     Nothing  more  can 


304  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

happen  to  that  boy.  He's  had  his  share  of  sensa- 
tional things." 

"  But  what's  keeping  him?  " 

"  Well  his  game  leg,  for  one  thing.  You  know 
he  insisted  upon  walking  from  the  station,  and  he's 
not  as  spry  as  he  used  to  be.  You  know  he  walked 
over  here  with  the  green  wallet  when  the  adventure 
started  and  he's  just  got  enough  of  the  spirit  of  ro- 
mance in  his  young  heart  to  want  to  reproduce  the 
sensation." 

Francis  Vernon  sighed. 

"  Oh,  youth  —  there  isn't  anything  in  the  world 
quite  like  youth." 

While  they  talked  inside,  Hope  Vernon,  standing 
near  the  trysting  place,  caught  sight  of  a  familiar 
form  coming  down  the  road.  It  was  a  broad-shoul- 
dered, clean-faced,  strong-limbed,  resolute  young 
man.  His  left  arm  was  bandaged  and  in  a  sling. 
He  was  dressed  in  the  uniform  of  an  officer  of  the 
United  States  Army.  When  he  saw  her  he  lifted  his 
cap  and  waved  it  gayly.  The  action  brought  the 
color  to  her  cheeks.  She  smiled,  and  the  smile  cre- 
ated two  adorable  dimples  in  her  cheeks.  And  as  he 
drew  closer  the  smile  which  had  begun  in  her  eyes 
extended  to  every  part  of  her  countenance. 

"  Welcome  to  Idlewild !  "  she  cried  in  a  voice  that 
trembled  with  emotion. 


A  Treaty  of  Peace 305 

There  was  a  mistiness  in  his  eyes. 

"  Hope,"  he  exclaimed,  "  this  is  reward  enough  to 
make  every  other  fellow  in  the  army  green  with 
envy !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  her  cheeks 
flaming. 

"  I  mean  that  with  you  standing  there  this  looks 
like  the  entrance  to  Paradise." 

He  was  by  her  side  by  this  time  with  his  sound 
arm  around  her  shoulders. 

"  Oh,  Vance,"  she  cried,  with  her  eyes  on  the 
ground,  "  how  in  the  world  can  I  ever  explain  my- 
self to  you?  " 

"  Don't,"  he  said,  and  then  he  added  in  a  voice 
of  authority,  "  Never  try  to  explain.  That's  one  of 
the  things  I  learned  in  the  army." 

She  was  about  to  make  some  retort  when  Barker, 
hobbling  down  the  pathway  from  the  house,  at- 
tracted their  attention.  He  saluted  the  soldier  with 
great  solemnity. 

"  Professor  says  you're  wanted  in  the  dining- 
room,"  he  announced,  "  and  he  told  me  to  tell  you 
he  couldn't  go  on  no  how  until  you  came  in." 

Hope  and  Vance  started  for  the  house,  headed  by 
Barker,  who  marched  with  all  the  pomp  and  circum- 
stance of  a  major-domo.  It  was  a  shaded  walk  and 
as  the  faithful  one  looked  straight  ahead  the  two 


306  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

young  persons  had  many  opportunities  of  making 
eyes  at  one  another  —  and  took  advantage  of  all  of 
them.  Indeed,  imposing  upon  the  trustfulness  of 
Barker,  they  walked  along  swinging  hands  like  the 
veriest  school  children  and  behaving  like  a  pair  who 
were  unashamedly  happy.  Even  the  most  delightful 
of  walks  have  to  come  to  an  end  and  before  they 
realized  it  these  modern  babes  in  the  wood  were  in 
the  living-room  engaged  in  animated  conversation 
with  three  men  who  were  almost  as  ridiculously 
happy  as  themselves. 

Five  minutes  later  the  new  week-end  party  was 
seated  around  the  hospitable  mahogany  of  Idle  wild. 
Professor  Vernon  occupied  the  head  of  the  table 
and  to  his  right  sat  Hope  and  Vance.  This  arrange- 
ment —  which  was  laughingly  blamed  on  the  faith- 
ful Barker  —  enabled  the  young  woman  to  cut  the 
meat  and  make  herself  otherwise  useful  to  the  young 
soldier.  Mrs.  Spencer  peered  in  at  intervals  to  see 
that  everything  was  in  apple  pie  order  —  just  as 
though  everything  was  not  always  in  apple  pie  order 
at  Idlewild  in  normal  times  —  while  Barker,  serv- 
ing the  courses,  beamed  upon  the  guests  like  a  bene- 
diction. In  the  midst  of  chatter  Francis  Vernon 
produced  a  telegram  which  he  begged  the  pleasure  of 
reading  for  the  benefit  of  the  assembled  company. 

"  It's  about  Gilbert  Vernon,"  he  said  with  a  chok- 


THEY     WALKED     ALONG     SWINGING      HANDS      LIKE     THE 
VERIEST    SCHOOL    CHILDREN  " 


A  Treaty  of  Peace  307 

ing  voice.  "  He's  been  fortunate  enough  to  get  in 
the  fighting  front  with  the  Franco- American  troops. 
He's  been  awarded  a  medal  of  honor  for  excep- 
tional bravery  in  action.  He  went  out  in  the  face  of 
a  fierce  fire  and  carried  three  of  his  wounded  com- 
rades to  a  place  of  safety.  That's  all,  but  it's  enough 
for  me." 

The  old  gentleman  wiped  a  tear  from  his  eye  as 
he  replaced  the  telegram  in  his  pocket.  When  he 
spoke  it  was  with  genuine  emotion. 

"  There  never  has  been  a  war  in  this  country  in 
which  the  Vernons  have  not  taken  part.  I  —  I  was 
afraid  that  we  were  not  going  to  be  represented  in 
this  greatest  of  all  wars,  but,  thank  God,  Gilbert 
Vernon  has  redeemed  the  family  name !  " 

"  While  we  are  talking  about  the  Vernon  family," 
remarked  Tommy  Warner  impressively,  "  it  might 
not  be  out  of  order  for  me  to  remark  that  Congress 
has  passed  a  resolution  of  thanks  to  our  dear  friend 
here,  Professor  Vernon,  thanking  him  for  the  part 
he  took  in  giving  the  United  States  and  its  Allies  the 
monopoly  of  the  Mexican  oil  fields,  which  clinched 
our  great  victory  for  civilization." 

A  ripple  of  applause  went  around  the  table,  while 
Francis  Vernon,  with  flushed  face  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  that  was  nothing,  nothing  at  all !  " 

"  Nothing  to  get  the  thanks  of  Congress,  and  have 


308  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

them  personally  handed  to  you  by  the  President  of 
the  United  States?  "  cried  the  cherubic  one. 

"  Well,  anyhow,"  stammered  the  host,  "  the  real 
hero  is  our  friend  Prescott.  If  there's  any  glory  it 
belongs  to  him." 

This  was  the  cue  for  Bromley  Barnes  to  get  on 
his  feet  and  to  raise  his  glass  in  the  air. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  cried  in  his  most  ora- 
torical manner,  "  I  have  the  honor  and  the  pleasure 
to  propose  the  health  and  the  good  fortune  of  Major 
Vance  Prescott." 

"  You  mean  Captain  Prescott,"  corrected  Tommy 
Warner. 

"  I  mean  precisely  what  I  say,  Major  Prescott. 
His  commission  is  being  made  out  at  this  very  mo- 
ment, and  it  should  come  here  by  special  messenger 
before  we  leave  this  table." 

Between  the  din  and  the  shouts  and  the  attempt  of 
everybody  to  shake  his  sound  hand,  the  new  major 
passed  a  rather  exciting  five  minutes.  After  the 
tumult  had  partially  subsided  Vance  said : 

"  I'm  glad,  of  course,  but  I  wish  I'd  earned  that 
promotion  over  in  France." 

Francis  Vernon  beamed  on  the  young  man. 

"  That's  your  modesty  talking  now,  but  I  know, 
and  every  person  around  this  table  knows,  that  you 
ran  just  as  much  personal  risk  in  the  recovery  of  the 


A  Treaty  of  Peace 309 

green  wallet  as  though  you  had  been  on  the  fighting 
line.  And  we  know,  although  the  public  may  never 
realize  it,  that  your  victory  in  recovering  those  con- 
tracts meant  just  as  much,  and  possibly  more,  to 
the  United  States,  than  any  victory  won  on  the 
field  of  battle.  Our  boys  fought  gloriously  every- 
where, but  needed  just  this  one  thing  to  cinch  this 
quick  victory,  and  you  are  the  man  who  made  it 
possible." 

Vance  Prescott  did  not  attempt  to  reply  to  these 
generous  words.  He  was  literally  speechless.  All 
eyes  were  on  him,  but  when  he  glanced  up  the  eyes 
that  he  saw,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others,  were  those 
of  Hope  Vernon.  They  were  suffused  with  tears, 
but  in  their  depths  he  read  a  tenderness  that  touched 
him  to  the  heart.  He  glanced  about  him  appeal- 
ingly. 

"If  —  if,"  he  said,  hesitatingly,  "  you  don't  mind 
I  think  I'll  come  up  for  air,"  and  as  he  spoke  he  left 
the  table  and  moved  over  to  the  bay  window  that 
looked  out  to  the  avenue  of  trees  that  lined  the  en- 
trance to  Idlewild. 

Hope  Vernon  followed  him  without  the  slightest 
compunction,  and  the  two  of  them  stood  there  for 
some  moments  gazing  upon  the  beautiful  place  that 
was  to  be  their  future  home.  Tommy  Warner  cre- 
ated a  welcome  diversion  by  tinging,  "  For  He's  a 


310  The  Ambassador's  Trunk 

Jolly  Good  Fellow,"  and  in  the  midst  of  the  noise 
Vance  leaned  over  to  the  girl  by  his  side. 

"  Hope,"  he  whispered,  "  I  think  the  best  thing 
you  can  do  is  to  surrender  to  me  —  unconditionally. 
After  that  we  can  declare  a  treaty  of  peace.  But 
there's  one  condition." 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  asked  meekly. 

"  Well,  I've  got  to  go  to  East  Orange  to  pay  that 
long  deferred  visit  to  my  Aunt  Lavinia.  I  want 
you  to  go  with  me  —  to  go  as  my  promised  wife." 

"  I'll  go,"  she  said  in  a  low,  tense  voice,  "  I'll  go 
gladly." 


THE   END 


SMILES,  A  ROSE  OF  THE 
CUMBERLANDS 

3)y  Eliot  Harlote  Robinson        § 

Author  of  "Man  Proposes" 
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Smiles  is  a  girl  that  is  sure  to  make  friends.  Her 
real  name  is  Rose,  but  the  rough  folk  of  the  Cumber- 
lands  preferred  their  own  way  of  addressing  her,  for 
her  smile  was  so  bright  and  winning  that  no  other  name 
suited  her  so  well. 

Smiles  was  not  a  native  of  the  Cumberlands,  and  her 
parentage  is  one  of  the  interesting  mysteries  of  the 
story.  Young  Dr.  MacDonald  saw  more  in  her  than 
the  mere  untamed,  untaught  child  of  the  mountains 
and  when,  due  to  the  death  of  her  foster  parents  a 
guardian  became  necessary,  he  was  selected.  Smiles 
developed  into  a  charming,  serious-minded  young  wo- 
man, and  the  doctor's  warm  friend,  Dr.  Bently,  falls  in 
love  with  her. 

We  do  not  want  to  detract  from  the  pleasure  of 
reading  this  story  by  telling  you  how  this  situation  was 
met,  either  by  Smiles  or  Dr.  MacDonald  —  but  there 
is  a  surprise  or  two  for  the  reader. 

Press  opinions  on  "Man  Proposes": 

"  Readers  will  find  not  only  an  unusually  interest- 
ing story,  but  one  of  the  most  complicated  romances 
ever  dreamed  of.  Among  other  things  the  story  gives 
a  splendid  and  realistic  picture  of  high  social  life  in 
Newport,  where  many  of  the  incidents  of  the  plot  are 
staged  in  the  major  part  of  the  book."  —  The  Bookman. 

"  It  is  well  written ;  the  characters  are  real  people  and 
the  whole  book  has  '  go.'  "  —  Louisville  Post. 


&0^wxxxQ&m&xa®^^ 

ROLLO'S  JOURNEY  TO        I 
WASHINGTON  I 

Richard  D.  Ware 


Illustrated   with    unique   woodcuts   by   Robert   Seaver. 
•  Price  $1.00 


The  boy  of  yesterday  —  the  man  of  today  —  knows 
the  Rollo  books,  and  is  familiar  with  the  method  by 
which  the  mind  of  young  Master  Mollycoddle  was 
improved  by  the  guidance  and  precepts  of  his  father 
and  Uncle  George.  Those  who  survived  such  a  course 
of  purification  and  still  live  will  enjoy  this  story  of 
Rollo's  journey  to  our  national  capital. 

It  is  not  written  for  the  young  in  years,  but  for  the 
young  in  heart  —  for  the  good  citizen  who  can  see  the 
funny  side  of  a  situation  that  is  serious,  and  can  laugh 
at  the  mistakes  and  foibles  of  our  great  men  of  today 
without  malice  or  viciousness. 

The  book  is  about  the  Great  War  which  has  caused 
so  many  tears  of  sorrow,  and  the  author's  only  desire 
is  to  replace  those  bitter  tears  with  tears  of  mirth. 


TWEEDIE,  THE  STORY  OF 
A  TRUE  HEART 


Ma  May  Mullins 


Author  of  "  The  Blossom  Shop  Stories"  etc. 
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In  this  story  Mrs.  Mullins  has  given  us  another  de- 
lightful story  of  the  South. 

The  Carlton  family  —  lovable  old  Professor  Carl- 
ton,  and  his  rather  wilful  daughter  Ruth  —  twenty- 
three  years  old  and  with  decided  ideas  as  to  her  future 
—  decide  to  move  to  the  country  in  order  to  have  more 
time  to  devote  to  writing. 

Many  changes  come  to  them  while  in  the  country, 
the  greatest  of  which  is  Tweedie  —  a  simple,  unpreten- 
tious little  body  who  is  an  optimist  through  and 
through  —  but  does  not  know  it.  In  a  subtle,  amus- 
ing way  Tweedie  makes  her  influence  felt.  At  first 
some  people  would  consider  her  a  pest,  but  would 
finally  agree  with  the  Carlton  family  that  she  was 
"  Unselfishness  Incarnate."  It  is  the  type  of  story 
that  will  entertain  and  amuse  both  old  and  young. 

The  press  has  commented  on  Mrs.  Mullins'  previous 
books  as  follows : 

"  Frankly  and  wholly  romance  is  this  book,  and 
lovable  —  as  is  a  fairy  tale  properly  told.  And  the 
book's  author  has  a  style  that's  all  her  own,  that 
strikes  one  as  praiseworthily  original  throughout."  — 
Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"  A  rare  and  gracious  picture  of  the  unfolding  of  life 
for  the  young  girl,  told  with  a  delicate  sympathy  and 
understanding  that  must  touch  alike  the  hearts  of 
young  and  old."  —  Louisville  (Ky.)  Times.  8 

H 
&XXaX8X^C8X^^ 


Z83C&&CK83CeaeCKf^^ 

S  THE  AMBASSADOR'S  TRUNK 

George  Barton  gjbY 

Author  of  "  The  World's  Greatest  Military  Spies  and 

Secret  Service  Agents"  "  The  Mystery  of  the 

Red  Flame,"  "  The  Strange  Adventures 

of  Bromley  Barnes"  etc. 
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Bromley  Barnes,  retired  chief  of  the  Secret  Service, 
an  important  State  document,  a  green  wallet,  the 
Ambassador's  trunk  —  these  are  the  ingredients,  which, 
properly  mixed,  and  served  in  attractive  format  and 
binding,  produce  a  draught  that  will  keep  you  awake 
long  past  your  regular  bedtime. 

Mr.  Barton  is  master  of  the  mystery  story,  and  in  this 
absorbing  narrative  the  author  has  surpassed  his  best 
previous  successes. 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  collection  of  more 
interesting  tales  of  mystery  so  well  told.  The  author 
is  crisp,  incisive  and  inspiring.  The  book  is  the  best 
of  its  kind  in  recent  years  and  adds  to  the  author's 
already  high  reputation."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

"The  story  is  full  of  life  and  movement,  and  pre- 
sents a  variety  of  interesting  characters.  It  is  well  pro- 
portioned and  subtly  strong  in  its  literary  aspects  and 
quality.  This  volume  adds  great  weight  to  the  claim 
that  Mr.  Barton  is  among  America's  greatest  novelists 
of  the  romantic  school;  and  in  many  ways  he  is  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  most  versatile  and  interesting 
writers."  —  Boston  Post. 


Selections  from 

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WORKS  OF 

ELEANOR  H.  PORTER 

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POLLYANNA:  The  GLAD  Book     (430,000) 

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the  Philadelphia  North  American,  says:  "And  when,  after 
Pollyanna  has  gone  away,  you  get  her  letter  saying  she  is 
going  to  take  '  eight  steps '  tomorrow  —  well,  I  don't  know  just 
what  you  may  do,  but  I  know  of  one  person  who  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands  and  shook  with  the  gladdest  sort  of  sadness 
and  got  down  on  his  knees  and  thanked  the  Giver  of  all 
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more  grown  up  and  more  lovable. 

"  Take  away  frowns !  Put  down  the  worries !  Stop  fidgeting 
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MISS  BILLY  (22nd  printing) 

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Billy  is  just  as  glad  as  the  younger  figure  and  radiates  just 
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LIST    OF   FICTION 


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L.  M.  MONTGOMERY 

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ISLA  MAY  MULLINS 

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old  Bay  State.  Then  things  begin,  when  Virginia  —  who  feels 
the  joyous,  exhilarating  call  of  the  Big  Horn  wilderness  and 
the  outdoor  life  —  attempts  to  become  acclimated  and  adopt 
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the  story  is  the  way  its  author  has  torn  aside  the  curtain  and 
revealed  certain  phases  of  the  relation  between  the  medical  pro- 
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THE  ROSE  OF  ROSES 

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A   PLACE   IN    THE    SUN 

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by  young  people  with  the  tingle  of  youth  in  their  veins.  — • 
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NOVELS  BY 

MARGARET    R.    PIPER 
SYLVIA'S   EXPERIMENT:   The  Cheerful  Book 

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book  of  good  cheer."  —  Philadelphia  North  American. 

"  The  bright  story  is  told  with  freshness  and  humor,  and  the 
experiment  is  one  that  will  appeal  to  the  imagination  of  all  to 
whom  the  festival  of  Christmas  is  dear."  —  Boston  Herald,  Bos- 
ton, Mass. 

"Sylvia  proves  practically  that  she  is  a  messenger  of  joy  to 
humanity."  —  The  Post  Express,  Rochester,  N.  Y. 

SYLVIA   ARDEN   DECIDES:    The   Third   Cheerful 
Book  Trade Mark 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  frontispiece  in  full  color  from  a 

painting  by  Haskell  Coffin  $1.50 

"  It  is  excellently  well  done  and  unusually  interesting.    The 

incidents  follow  one  another  in  rapid  succession  and  are  kept 

up  to  the  right  pitch  of  interest."  —  N.  Y.  American. 

"  Its  ease  of  style,  its  rapidity,  its  interest  from  page  to  page, 
are  admirable ;  and  it  shows  that  inimitable  power  — •  the  story- 
teller's gift  of  verisimilitude.  Its  sureness  and  clearness  are 
excellent,  and  its  portraiture  clear  and  pleasing." — The  Reader. 
"  It  is  an  extremely  well  told  story,  made  up  of  interesting 
situations  and  the  doings  of  life-like  people,  and  you  will  find 
it  very  easy  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  the  different  characters 
through  its  varied  scenes."  —  Boston  Herald. 


LIST    OF   FICTION 


WORKS    OF 

CHARLES    G.    D.    ROBERTS 

HAUNTERS    OF    THE    SILENCES 

Cloth  decorative,  with  many  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston 
Bull,  four  of  which  are  in  full  color.  $2.00 

The  stories  in  Mr.  Roberts's  new  collection  are  the  strongest 
and  best  he  has  ever  written. 

He  has  largely  taken  for  his  subjects  those  animals  rarely 
met  with  in  books,  whose  lives  are  spent  "  In  the  Silences," 
where  they  are  the  supreme  rulers. 

"  As  a  writer  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an  envi- 
able place.  He  is  the  most  literary,  as  well  as  the  most  imag- 
inative and  vivid  of  all  the  nature  writers."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

RED   FOX 

THE  STORY  OP  His  ADVENTUROUS  CAREER  IK  THE  RINGWAAK 
WILDS,  AND  OF  His  FINAL  TRIUMPH  OVER  THE  ENEMIES  OF 
His  KIND.     With  fifty  illustrations,  including  frontispiece  in 
color  and  cover  design  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 
Square  quarto,  cloth  decorative  $2.00 

"  True  in  substance,  but  fascinating  as  fiction.  It  will  inter- 
est old  and  young,  city-bound  and  free-footed,  those  who  know 
animals  and  those  who  do  not."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

THE    KINDRED    OF   THE   WILD 

A  BOOK  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE.     With  fifty-one  full-page  plates 

and  many  decorations  from  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston 

Bull. 

Square  quarto,  cloth  decorative  $2.00 

"  Is  in  many  ways  the  most  brilliant  collection  of  animal 

stories  that  has  appeared;  well  named  and  well  done."  —  John 

Burroughs. 

THE  WATCHERS  OF  THE  TRAILS 

A  companion  volume  to  "  The  Kindred  of  the  Wild."  With 
forty-eight  full-page  plates  and  many  decorations  from 
drawings  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

Square  quarto,  cloth  decorative  $2.00 

"  These  stories  are  exquisite  in  their  refinement,  and  yet 
robust  in  their  appreciation  of  some  of  the  rougher  phases  of 
woodcraft.  Among  the  many  writers  about  animals,  Mr.  Rob- 
erts occupies  an  enviable  place."  —  The  Outlook. 


THE   PAGE    COMPANY'S 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WATER 

With  thirty  full-page  illustrations  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull 
and  Frank  Vining  Smith.  Cover  design  and  decorations  by 
Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative  $1.50 

"  Every  paragraph  is  a  splendid  picture,  suggesting  in  a  few 
words  the  appeal  of  the  vast,  illimitable  wilderness."  —  The 
Chicago  Tribune. 

"  This  is  a  book  full  of  delight.  An  additional  charm  lies  in 
Mr.  Bull's  faithful  and  graphic  illustrations,  which  in  fashion 
all  their  own  tell  the  story  of  the  wild  life,  illuminating  and 
supplementing  the  pen  pictures  of  the  author."  —  Literary 
Digest. 

THE  HEART  THAT  KNOWS 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative  .....  $1.50 
"  A  novel  of  singularly  effective  strength,  luminous  in  liter- 

ary color,  rich  in  its  passionate,  yet  tender  drama."  —  New  York 

Globe. 

EARTH'S  ENIGMAS 

A  new  edition  of  Mr.  Roberts's  first  volume  of  fiction,  pub- 
lished in  1892,  and  out  of  print  for  several  years,  with  the 
addition  of  three  new  stories,  and  ten  illustrations  by  Charles 
Livingston  Bull. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative  .....  $1.50 
"  It  will  rank  high  among  collections  of  short  stories.  In 
'Earth's  Enigmas'  is  a  wider  range  of  subjects  than  in  the 
*  Kindred  of  the  Wild.'  "  —  Review  from  advance  sheets  of  the 
illustrated  edition  by  Tiffany  Blake  in  the  Chicago  Evening 
Post. 

BARBARA  LADD 

With  four  illustrations  by  Frank  Verbeck. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative  .....     $1.50 

"  From  the  opening  chapter  to  the  final  page  Mr.  Roberts 
lures  us  on  by  his  rapt  devotion  to  the  changing  aspects  of 
Nature  and  by  his  keen  and  sympathetic  analysis  of  human 
character."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"A  very  fine  novel.  We  unhesitatingly  pronounce  it  ... 
one  of  the  books  that  stamp  themselves  at  once  upon  the  imag- 
ination, and  remain  imbedded  in  the  memory  long  after  the 
covers  are  closed."  —  Literary  World,  Boston. 


LIST   OF   FICTION 


THE  PRISONER  OF  MADEMOISELLE 

With  frontispiece  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  12mo,  doth  decorative $1.50 

A  tate  of  Acadia, — a  land  which  is  the  author's  heart's  de- 
light,— of  a  valiant  young  lieutenant  and  a  winsome  maiden, 
who  first  captures  and  then  captivates. 

"This  is  the  kind  of  a  story  that  makes  one  grow  younger, 
more  innocent,  more  light-hearted.  Its  literary  quality  is  im- 
peccable. It  is  not  every  day  that  such  a  heroine  blossoms  into 
even  temporary  existence,  and  the  very  name  of  the  story  bears 
a  breath  of  charm." — Chicago  Record-Herald. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANCIENT  WOOD 

With  six  illustrations  by  James  L.  Weston. 

Library  12mo,  decorative  cover  $1.50 

"  One  of  the  most  fascinating  novels  of  recent  daya."  —  Boston 
Journal. 

"  A  classic  twentieth-century  romance."  —  New  York  Commer- 
cial Advertiser. 

THE    FORGE    IN    THE    FOREST 

Being  the  Narrative  of  the  Acadian  Ranger,  Jean  de  Mer. 
Seigneur  de  Briart,  and  how  he  crossed  the  Black  Abb4,  and 
of  his  adventures  in  a  strange  fellowship.  Illustrated  by  Henry 
Sandham,  R.  C.  A. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

A  story  of  pure  love  and  heroic  adventure. 

BY    THE   MARSHES    OF    MINAS 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  .  .  $1.50 
Most  of  these  romances  are  in  the  author's  lighter  and  more 

playful  vein;   each  is  a  unit  of  absorbing  interest  and  exquisite 

workmanship. 

A   SISTER    TO   EVANGELINE 

Being  the  Story  of  Yvonne  de  Lamourie,  and  how  she  went  into 
exile  with  the  villagers  of  Grand  Pre". 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated    .  $1.50 

Swift  action,  fresh  atmosphere,  wholesome  purity,  deep  pa&- 
sion,  and  soarching  analysis  characterize  this  strong  novel. 


10  THE   PAGE   COM  PA  NT' 8 

WORKS  OF 

GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO 

Signer  d'Annunzio  is  known  throughout  the  world  as  a  poet 
and  a  dramatist,  but  above  all  as  a  novelist,  for  it  is  in  his  novels 
that  he  is  at  his  best.  In  poetic  thought  and  graceful  expression 
he  has  few  equals  among  the  writers  of  the  day. 

He  is  engaged  on  a  most  ambitious  work  —  nothing  less  than 
the  writing  of  nine  novels  which  cover  the  whole  field  of  human 
sentiment.  This  work  he  has  divided  into  three  trilogies,  and 
five  of  the  nine  books  have  been  published.  It  is  to  be  regretted 
that  other  labors  have  interrupted  the  completion  of  the  series. 

"  This  book  is  realistic.  Some  say  that  it  is  brutally  so. 
But  the  realism  is  that  of  Flaubert,  and  not  of  Zola.  There 
is  no  plain  speaking  for  the  sake  of  plain  speaking.  Every 
detail  is  justified  in  the  fact  that  it  illuminates  either  the  motives 
or  the  actions  of  the  man  and  woman  who  here  stand  revealed. 
It  is  deadly  true.  The  author  holds  the  mirror  up  to  nature, 
and  the  reader,  as  he  sees  his  own  experiences  duplicated  in 
passage  after  passage,  has  something  of  the  same  sensation  as 
all  of  us  know  on  the  first  reading  of  George  Meredith's  '  Ego- 
ist.' Reading  these  pages  is  like  being  out  in  the  country  on 
a  dark  night  in  a  storm.  Suddenly  a  flash  of  lightning  comes 
and  every  detail  of  your  surroundings  is  revealed."  —  Review 
of  "  The  Triumph  of  Death  "  in  the  New  York  Evening  Sun. 

The  volumes  published  are  as  follows.  Each  1  vol.,  library 
12mo,  cloth  .  .  .  .  .  .-.  .  .  .  .  $1.50 

Jl 
THE  ROMANCES  OF  THE  ROSB 

THE   CHILD   OF  PLEASURE  (!L  PIACERB). 

THE    INTRUDER  (L'INNOCENTE). 

THE  TRIUMPH   OF    DEATH    (h,    Twowro    DELLA 

MOBTE). 

jH 

THE   ROMANCES   OF    THE   LILY 
THE   MAIDENS     OF    THE   ROCKS    (La    VEBOIUJ 

BELLE   ROCCE). 

Jt 

THE  ROMANCES  OF  THE  POMEGRANATE 
THE  FLAME  OF  LIFE  fli,  Fcoco). 


LIST   OF   FICTION  n 

HISTORICAL   ROMANCES   OF 

NATHAN    GALLIZIER 
UNDER   THE   WITCHES'   MOON 

Cloth  decorative,  large  12mo,  illustrated  in 'color  by  The 
Kinneys  $1.50 

"  A  highly  colored  romance  of  mediaeval  Italy  with  a  most 
interesting  background."  —  New  York  World. 

THE    CRIMSON    GONDOLA 

Cloth  decorative,  large  12mo,  illustrated  in  color  from  paint- 
ings by  Edmund  H.  Garrett  ..  $1.50 
"  Mr.  Gallizier  is  unusually  strong  in  the  use  of  description, 

and  conveys  vividly  the  gorgeous  decadence  and  luxury  of  the 

sybaritic  city."  —  Los  Angeles  Sunday  Times. 

THE    HILL   OF   VENUS 

Cloth  decorative,  large  12mo,  illustrated  in  color  from  paint- 
ings by  Edmund  H.  Garrett  $1.50 
This  is  a  vivid  and  powerful  romance  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury in  the  times  of  the  great  Ghibelline  wars. 

"  It  is  vibrant  with  action  and  overflowing  with  human  emo- 
tions throughout."  —  Wilmington  Every  Evening. 

THE    COURT    OF   LUCIFER 

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ings by  The  Kinneys  .  $1.50 
"  The  book  is  breathless  reading,  as  much  for  the  adventures, 
the  pageants,  the  midnight  excursions  of  the  minor  characters, 
as  for  the  love  story  of  the  prince  and  Donna  Lucrezia."  — 
Boston  Transcript. 

THE   SORCERESS   OF   ROME 

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ings by  The  Kinneys    .  $1.50 
"  A  splendid  bit  of  old  Roman  mosaic,  or  a  gorgeous  piece  of 
tapestry.    Otto  is  a  striking  and  pathetic  figure.    Description 
of  the  city,  the  gorgeous  ceremonials  of  the  court  and  the  revels 
are  a  series  of  wonderful  pictures."  —  Cincinnati  Enquirer. 

CASTEL   DEL   MONTE 

Cloth  decorative,  large  12mo,  illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

$1.50 

"There  is  color;  there  is  sumptuous  word-painting  in  these 
pages;  the  action  is  terrific  at  times;  vividness  and  life  are  in 
every  part;  and  brilliant  descriptions  entertain  the  reader  and 
give  a  singular  fascination  to  the  tale." — Grand  Rapids  Herald. 


12  THE  PAGE   COMPANY'S 

DETECTIVE    STORIES    BY 

GEORGE     BARTON 

Each,  one  volume,  cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated,  $1.50 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  RED  FLAME 

"  An  admirable  story  —  an  engaging  story  of  love,  mystery 
and  adventure."  —  The  Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

THE  STRANGE  ADVENTURES  OF  BROMLEY 
BARNES 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  collection  of  more  interesting 
tales  of  mystery  so  well  told.  The  author  is  crisp,  incisive 
and  inspiring.  The  book  is  the  best  of  its  kind  in  recent  years 
and  adds  to  the  author's  already  high  reputation."  —  New 
York  Tribune. 

NOVELS  BY 

OTHER   AUTHORS 

THE  MAN  WHO  WON 

By  LEON  D.  HIRSCH. 

Cloth  decorative,   12mo,  illustrated  $1.50 

"  Mr.  Hirsch  has  given  the  public  a  novel  decidedly  out  of 

the  ordinary  —  a  stirring  story  of  political  life  combined  with 

a  romance  of  absorbing  interest."  —  Reader. 

DAWSON  BLACK,  RETAIL  MERCHANT 

By  HAROLD  WHITEHEAD,  Assistant  Professor  of  Business 
Method,  The  College  of  Business  Administration,  Boston  Uni- 
versity, author  of  "  The  Business  Career  of  Peter  Flint," 
"  Principles  of  Salesmanship,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated  $1.50 

"  It  is  a  human  story  with  a  gripping  interest.  Once 
started,  the  reader  is  loath  to  put  down  the  book  until  the 
final  page  is  reached."  —  Boston  Post. 

MAN  PROPOSES;  Or,  The  Romance  of  John  Alden 
Shaw 

By  ELIOT  ROBINSON. 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated  $1.50 

"  Readers  will  find  not  only  an  unusually  interesting  story 

but  one  of  the  most  complicated  romances  ever  dreamed  of." 

—  The  Bookman. 


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